mrpronqs:

B u t   t h e   m o s t   s p e c i a l   a r e   t h e   m o s t   l o n e l y
God, I pity the violins
In glass coffins they keep coughing
They’ve   f o r g o t t e n ,   f o r g o t t e n   h o w   t o   s i n g

They will stay there in their gold frames
For forever, forever and a day
All the rowboats in the oil paintings
They keep trying to   r o w   a w a y ,   r o w   a w a y