And on the street it walks   The wrong way   It withers all flowers   And death sings, sings, a song   With his white guitar   And death sings, sings...   Would you mind if I die?   And death sings, sings...   Sings...   Would you mind if I die?      I write about sensations, moods and apparitions,   while people give parties to cover the silence   There is no sense in feeling remorse for a thing you could not control      And death sings, sings...   Would you mind if I die?   And death sings, sings...   Sings...   Would you mind if I die?      What did you want when you continued to ask?   What did you want when you continued to ask?      My energies must be direct to an act   I continually research a sure channel to address my emotive contradictions      I yearn they have a positive origin   Intolerant towards imperfection   I practice a personal and secret auto-therapy,   I practice a personal and secret auto-therapy      Against the shame of publicly showing our own signs   Memento Audere Semper   Memento Audere Semper   Memento Audere Semper   Memento Audere Semper      Memento Audere Semper   Memento Audere Semper   Memento Audere Semper   Memento Audere Semper         And on the street it walks   The wrong way   On the wrong way, it withers all flowers   And death sings, sings, a song   With his white guitar   And death sings, sings...   Sings...   It sings, sings... it sings...