Pale on the Bench | theWAY Media

I walked the park today

Caught his eyes on me

He looked at me the way a starving man looks at food

Then he looked back at her

And sighed

I stopped. I looked at her — his wife, pale on the bench

Soul drifting like smoke from a fire long since quenched

His eyes on me like a hand on a breast —

Familiar, hungry, apologetic

Ah, mon Dieu, encore

Ma sœur, wake up before the end

Thirty years more? Like this?

With him dreaming of my ass while you fade in silk and silence?

Remember the first thirty — wild nights, blood hot in your veins?

Laughter easy, lovers without chains

Now you sip chocolate wine, pages of soft-core dreams

Ah, mon Dieu, encore

He’s yearning for the whore he’ll never touch

And you’re dying quiet

Planning your own death like a wedding

Regarde-moi, ma sœur

I’m nearly your age, lines on my face

I’ve sold this body, paid in full

Walked out of every cage

But I still burn

I still fight

I still howl into the night

I still burn

I still fight

I still howl

Don’t let your flame go gentle

Ignite!

Don’t let your flame go gentle

Ignite!

He eyes me like a hunter

He has the spark

But you… you could still live

Ah, mon Dieu, encore

Wake up

Before the park embraces night

Before the embers lose the light

Before the park embraces night

Before the embers lose the light

Ma sœur… wake up

Before the embers lose the light

You… you could still live