Mother Superior

In the clockwork, in the clockwork, time is never at ease A frantic sensation is hammering nails in your spine Multiple fractions and muscle contractions will tear your mind into shreds, cutting your threads Do you regret you were born? Take my hands into yours, dance my senses away Take my hands into yours, before mother superior's home Monsieur, monsieur you look like the saint in my dreams Igniting the flame and carving my name next to yours This urban decline is leaving its sign round my neck Pulling the noose, tells me I'll lose There's nothing to save I'm sober, I'm sober, but I wish I was not A gentle diversion or a touch of divine I could use The curtains are closed, but I still feel exposed to the world Wishing away somewhere astray Are you still listening?