The waltz long over, that mournful guitar piece
that through the thoroughly shot speakers in
the shopping mall rink sounded like it came in
from the cold and dark waters of Atlantis.
We were young, before The Devil came for me.
I learned to hold you to the sky, toss you to angels
and together we were one soul on the ice, lost
in deep, dark eyes and the soft, melancholy music.
At the end of the session, we skated slow, hand in hand,
ant then that mournful guitar from the lost and innocent kingdom
would play and I’d pull you close to me, and feel weight of heaven,
in my arms, in your closeness, in the end of the winter night.
The Devil came for me, born with me and my mind, my skin.
I fell away, tormented and mad, a hairless lycanthrope,
as I was taken and hanged from the sky, my thoughts emptying
into the sea, and you had to go one, you had a future.
The waltz long over, those bad days just a muted memory.
You’ve got another to raise you to the sky, toss you to angels,
and you’ve got pride and glory and gold, and I’ve got a mind
that can finally love you again, return to that lost and innocent kingdom.