Chat Noir

Unbearable vision of failure of the desperate sailors

abandoned by the fortune of oil. Believe me, don't wait

for a saviour. Here's your sheet-steel coffin, may you

appreciate. Believe me, do not look for an answer. There

are still shits coming before you pass away. And i can't

bear this snow. And i can't bear this room. And i wish my

feet would have never known the dark streets of Cottbus.

End. Maybe we could dance and smile and figure out we're

still alive, as if we're not leaving our dreams along

this late highway. Maybe we could wait for some better

skies to come and shine Over the tragedy we leave along

white barricades. This was where we lived. This is where

it ends. Common failure, common sailors. Abandonned by

the fortune of oil.