Thoughtcrime

Can this heart understand someone who is kind to people
It feels good to curse people, that's why I wrote songs
Dreaming of being on the morning news someday
That's why I throw knives

The sound of smashing glass, tearing someone's hair
You know that the sunset after goodbye is beautiful

Crimson in the crow's song
Even this loneliness now turns into sound
Dusk cast on a trace
Standing on tiptoes, the clouds burn, goodbye slips from the lips

Wanting to be acknowledged, wanting to be loved
Is this what they call a dream?
Grant it without me doing anything, quickly, fulfill me
Can this suspicious mind understand the kind world
Always looking for opportunities to hurt someone

Hitting a streetlight with a beer bottle, the sound of a broken guitar being thrown
All the irretrievable regrets are beautiful, that's what they say, even though I understand

Struck by a rain of words
Falling into winter while regretting autumn
Smoke rises again from behind the spring mountain
The summer wind slides on the cheeks

Can this loneliness be understood by someone who is kind to people
I don't want to die but I can't live, that's why I write songs
Insults, disappointments, disgust, I think they're all just interest in me
I write songs that hurt people
I'm writing songs with such empty content

I want to drink your words
Receive them with empty hands
My throat will moisten before I know it
While waiting for that moment

Crimson in the crow's song
Loneliness, now turn into a song
Goodbye, crimson to you
I am now waiting for the night
Tomorrow again, slipping from the lips