She s sinking on Monday

Clock hands tangle in a web of mirror glass,
He who waited all in vain is late at last.
Pale water slowly running down the pane,
Sealing up this contour in the rain.


Seven steps to reach the empty room’s dead end,
Where illusions and the deep afflictions blend.
Days of the week are like the skeletons of ships...
In the silence, no more words escape the lips.

Припев
She is drowning on a Monday,
In the grey waves of the still.
She is drowning on a Monday,
Where no dreams are left to feel.
Cold is pulling by the wrists into the deep,
Leaving just the pallid moon for me to keep.




Colors washed from all the paintings left undone,
Midst the frightening abysses, fully gone.
Now her face dissolves within the shadow's hold,
And the final ring is shattered in the cold.
Air is gone, replaced by purely solid glass,
All the warmth bled out into the dark crevasse.


Tuesday morning is a thing that never comes,
In the labyrinths, forever it succumbs —
Every single breath and every thrown critique...
Time compacted to a tangled string so bleak.



Припев
She is drowning on a Monday,
In the grey waves of the still.
She is drowning on a Monday,
Where no dreams are left to feel.
Cold is pulling by the wrists into the deep,
Leaving just the pallid moon for me to keep.


On a Monday...
On a Monday...
Darkness calls into the deep.
On a Monday...
I will follow her to sleep...