Evita Beyond The Rising Son
These bloodstained hands will never come clean. They are my scars, they lie deeper than my flesh. They live in my memories, and I shall take them to my death bed. To my death bed. Tear out my eyes to see another day. Tear out my eyes to see beyond the rising sun. And let every tear I shed, be a part of the memory I have of you. With both thumbs I stub out the eyes, the eyes of yesterday. Grasping with both hands I begin to suffocate. And as her skin turned numb, I said good bye. She lays there cold but she is still breathing. I turn away and forget.
