After that Strange Church wedding

All the nights are the same:

The city gates close,

The lights are out, the bridges are lifted,

And the shades start moving in the damp streets,

they are not accompanied by people.

I walk from one window to another,

I look over the square with guillotine,

And the river filled with blood,

And I remember, I was instructed in childhood,

Don’t fell in love with your own self,

Your own self will always love somebody else.

After this strange church wedding

Every night which should have been yours

Belongs to Bartholomew .