Joseph Scro - Baudelaire Lyrics

How often must I shake my bells
And kiss your low forehead O dismal caricature
How many arrows must I shoot and miss
Before I strike the target's mystic lure
We must wear out our souls in subtle schemes
We must dismantle a scaffolding
Before we know the creature of our dreams
That fills our heart with sobs and sorrowing
Some never know the idol of their soul
Idol of the soul
Like sculptors damned and branded for disgrace
Who hammer upon their own breast and face
They have one hope their somber capitol
That death may rise, a sun of another kind
And bring to blossom the flowers of their mind
At my side the demon writhes forever
Swimming around me like impalpable air
As I breathe he burns my lungs like a fever
And fills me with an eternal guilty desire
And into my bewildered eyes he throws
Visions of festering wounds and filthy clothes
And all destruction's bloody