Along the street death walks, crowned with Crowned with withered orange flowers And it sings, sings, a song With its white guitar And it sings, sings Would you mind if I die? And it sings, sings, sings Would you mind if I die? I write about sensations, moods and apparitions While people give parties to cover the silence There is no sense in feeling remorse For a thing you could not control And death sings, sings Would you mind if I die? And it sings, sings, sings Would you mind if I die? What did you want When you continued to ask? What did you... want When you continued to ask? My energies must be direct to an act I continually research A sure channel to address My emotive contradictions I yearn they have a positive origin Intolerant towards imperfection I practice a secret auto-therapy I practice... a personal and secret auto-therapy Against the shame Of publicly showing our own signs Memento Audere Semper Memento Audere Semper Memento Audere Semper Memento Audere Semper Memento Audere Semper Memento Audere Semper Memento Audere Semper Memento Audere Semper Along the street death walks, crowned with Crowned with withered orange flowers It sings, sings, a song With its white guitar And it sings, sings, sings It sings, sings, it sings