I`m clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight  that actually existed just in your head  your fingernails painted black  or bloodred  I forget    And your fake-leather volumes  jabbering on hell  manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhail  your eyes tried so hard to glitter    A star-snuffing black  so you opened your books  and you opened your legs  and so opened your heart  and let in the badness  you claimed  as your friend  with un-angels hovering  like flies round the orchard  that had covered your soul  their empire increasing  and your country  deserted by yourself    The bells of St. Mary call us to remember  that life is with end  and the gestures can kill us  moreover destroy  and there is one jugdement only    Your letters came daily  in French or in German  but they meant to me nothing  I caught the slow cords  and dry ice fogging your mind  I see all too clearly now  why you should be discarded  and though I could pray for you  I probably shan`t  having had my cup filled up  with your lies  and your makeup  you were nothing  thinking you`re something    And nonetheless I still write this gothic lovesong  a sign to myself  and the memory of my past  I still write this gothic lovesong  and the memory of my past  and a way to shut out your face