Under the cold of tears she'll decay and be warm The style is death A white rose in a morphine dream A joke to amuse life Goodbye into a snowstorm While you shake the thoughts Memories of conversation Come back the line like eager sadness A knife hollows them out Hollows them out A thin skin of black letters A thin skin of black letters I make myself sick Born with thoughts of disappointment Hands out, palms dry Give me something to grasp False truth or fake hope We say yes to death A joke to amuse life Goodbye into a snowstorm While you shake the thoughts Memories of conversation The style is death The style is death The style is death The style is death