If I were in the painting, I would be in removing, All those things that hurt you, All these things that destroy you. If your angelic innocence, Could attract their attention, If your beauty weren't buried, Under a whole lot of lamentations. You would still be here. It is your innocence, That is tragic today, Your broken destiny, Has clipped my blue wings. Oh, my blue wings! The tragic taste of my tears, Rises up when you resist, Against this crane and these tools, That took you, oh, that took you. Far from our lives. The A tore his heart out, It was your heart that told me, All of this freaks me out, In bradycardia, hold on to me. I'm sending you a discharge, A little bit of love for you, And I won't let you die like that, In this big dump where you're rotting. You would still be here. It is your innocence, That is tragic today, Your broken destiny, Has clipped my blue wings. Oh, my blue wings! The tragic taste of my tears, Rises up when you resist, Against this crane and these tools, That took you, oh, that took you. Far from our lives. Watching you is becoming dangerous, Each piece of you becomes a translation, Like a few words wandering about, Hanging from the warehouse gutter. In homage to your pink gondolas, I hang upside down, perched, You're wondering who I am, I don't know anymore either. You should still be here. It is your innocence, That is tragic today, Your broken destiny, Has clipped my blue wings. Oh, my blue wings! The tragis taste of my tears, Rises up when you resist, Against this crane and these tools, That took you, oh, that took you. Far from our lives.
