a tale on loving, pain, fucking and art

i'm standing here, beneath the falling, cold snow
on my hair, it's glistening, like the tears on my cheek

i let you come this near, i let my feelings show
but i don't think you're even listening, by now my voice has gotten weak

from all the shouting out to you
will i ever get through
through to you heart?

you say that loving is pain
and that fucking ist art
but without soul
a paintings just stain after stain
whole, yes
but lifeless and plain

i know you shiver when i moan
you know i quiver when you groan
i want to have you for my own
why can't i have you for my own?

i wanted too much, now you're gone

you told me loving is pain and fucking is art
yet your fucking got me hurt and you also fucked my heart

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