Goodnight, my love,
Sleep well in your chamber,
See you in a while,
You’ll be in no danger,
From the voice that dares ask,
Any question at all,
Only the strong and the stable,
Are allowed at the ball.
Goodnight, my love,
Your skin has grown paler,
Behind the chamber’s glass,
You’ve become your own jailer,
Closing the hatch,
On your reverberant hole,
You settle comfortably into the role,
And a tear of mine drops to the floor,
While stiff regret haunts my jaw.
Enjoy your cocktails of blood,
And the inevitable flood,
Of warmth in your veins,
As you calmly peruse,
Systematic abuse,
As long as no-one complains,
Of secrets and lies,
Where the dead go to live,
When their sympathy dies.
Through the chainmail I hear,
An echo of you,
Through the telegraph wire,
And the turn of the screw,
From the sky up above,
To the sinner below,
A picture is painted,
That he’ll never know.
Goodnight my love,
This is the last time I’ll come,
The chamber’s cold glass,
Has turned my lips numb.
Goodnight, my love,
I will cherish our time,
But I am no longer yours,
And you, no longer mine.