A Little Trouble
Blackened wall blackened paint
fiery drops did fall
Smell of gasoline
Think i didn't see the writing on the wall?
The saints are coming. Memento mori
They came and tried to kill my love.
But the thought of dying bores me
And a little trouble makes a great story.
Old hotels where i used to meet them
Bring me back these memories
Im not like everyone
neither are you
Were sparks, we fell from the sun
Times Long gone. Like darkness in the midday sun. Long gone. sparks are fading one by one. Now is only talking. And theyre never ever done. Saints in long tall dresses tell me what im doing's wrong.
Slow down Before you fall
Or crash into the ground
Theyre always trying to warn me but
The good is already done.
Yeah, the good is already done.
The saints are coming. Memento mori.
Feel free to Try and kill my song.
Im telling you. it wont bore me
a little trouble makes a great story.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.