Canvas of Empty Chairs

Tuesday is laughing right in Thursday's face,
Masks have been dropped on the slippery floor.
I find no excuses to salvage the grace
Of those who abandoned the final encore.
Flattering speeches fell silent and died,
Sour wine rests in the glasses of pride.


Curtain has twitched. And a creak from the door.
Here is the gallery of what we mourn for.

Припев
Canvas of empty chairs, masterpiece mute,
Each is a treacherous, abdicated throne.
How flawless the lines of this dry destitute,
Where every companion is cast out alone.
Furniture harbors the ghosts of the spine
Of those who believed they were ruling the line.


Crumbs of the gossip and stains of intrigue,
Tablecloth soaked up the geometry of lies.
He who is prone to attention's fatigue,
Is always the first one to sever the ties.
The auditorium calls in the trade,
We are our enemies in this charade.


The master and painter is dropping his brush,
No longer needing the counterfeit hues.
Truth cannot hide in the cowardly hush,
Caught in the corners we cruelly use.


Who's gonna settle the bill for the feast?

Припев
Canvas of empty chairs, masterpiece mute,
Each is a treacherous, abdicated throne.
How flawless the lines of this dry destitute,
Where every companion is cast out alone.
Furniture harbors the ghosts of the spine
Of those who believed they were ruling the line.


Canvas of empty chairs...
No one will come.
No one will come.