Colliding in the stroboscope… Yes, now you see me, now you don’t.
Tonight I’m dressed in black, I mourn the death of colour.
Hopeless, crying in my wine through happy hour;
I count the lines that crawl across my face and round my eyes.
Watch the ballerinas fly on the powder clouds through six dimensions
Seeing just the patterns on the wall.
Cold eyes searching for a space that’s warm enough
To take them through the night.
There’s only black & white. Express. We never touch, we only press.
Can taste the desperation in your breath, but I swear I’ll protect you
If you’d only look into my eyes.
Choose your masks and raise your armour. Eyes down for Cheraderama!