[Spoken Word / Poem] "When the low, heavy sky weighs like a lid... And the city is just a damp room where Hope, like a bat, Flaps its wings against the rotted walls. The fever is not in the blood... It is in the stone. It is in the very air we breathe." [Verse 1] The neon is a sickly yellow bloom In the corner of this crowded, hollow room Paris is a hospital, the beds are made of glass Watching all the fractured hours pass The scent of wet wool and expensive sin Where does the city end and the rot begin? [Verse 2] A ghost in a top hat, dandy in the mud Finding the flowers in the pools of blood The gutters are overflowing with old regrets And the sun is a coin that the darkness bets Swallow the gray... swallow the day... [Hypnotic Hook] Feed the fever, taste the spleen The prettiest nightmare you've ever seen Lost in the velvet, lost in the rot Give me the ghost that the world forgot Yeah, it's a beautiful fever... A beautiful rot. [Verse 3] An opium cloud over the Pont Neuf bridge The moon is a razor on the city's ridge We’re drinking the shadows from a silver cup Waiting for the bottom to finally look up Every beauty is a scar that hasn't healed In the garden where the destiny is sealed [Bridge] Death is a carriage waiting at the door But we’re dancing on the splinters on the floor Don't wake the morning, let the fever stay It's much too bright... in the light of the day. [Guitar Solo] [Hypnotic Hook] Feed the fever, taste the spleen The prettiest nightmare you've ever seen Lost in the velvet, lost in the rot Give me the ghost that the world forgot Yeah, it's a beautiful fever... [Outro] The spleen... The fever... Everything is gold... Everything is gray...
