Death in an autumnal park in Paris. Go to heaven from hoarfrosty land. Call to your mind last leavetaking caress Send the letters, until send you can.
You need some nocturnal hours White is paper, letterline is black. Broken streets and house and flowers On that address you go never back.
Noone does not open your sad letters. Silent tone sounds from the telephone. You took vengeance upon these ones betters. You fulfilled the mission. You are none.
To drink wine in candlelight and To commemorate yourself with tears. Spend in luxhotel last night and Take from trunk the pistol now and here.
Death in an autumnal park in Paris. Go to heaven from hoarfrosty land. Call to your mind last leavetaking caress Send the letters, until send you can.
But foreign city lights here Radiate and radiate still then, When you so depart like nightmare In the city of Paris. The end.