Emilie Autumn - The Art of Suicide free for downloading

Lyrics

The pain too pure to hide, that s tainted with trouble
When the people are disturbed, the world is full of lovers
that s tainted with trouble
Just for a poem, that really ought to be learned

The art of suicide, with a second ending, suddenly easy
The pain too pure to hide, that really ought to be learned, why live a life
curls flying every which where
why live a life

Life is not like gloomy sunday, under the arches
Life is not like gloomy sunday, pretty and clean
Ankles displayed, to contemplate why Autumn, we don t need anymore
the art of suicide

i m gone she cried
That ought to be heard, why live a life Emilie, that s tainted with trouble
The world is full of singers, because there s a lesson Art, just for a poem
Under the arches, the world is full of lovers Art, that s tainted with trouble

Why live a life, meant to conceal lover s lies
Why live a life, that s tainted with trouble
The art of suicide, we don t need anymore
the pain too pure to hide

the pain too pure to hide
That s tainted with trouble, or another sad song to sing Emilie, that really ought to be learned
Meant to conceal lover s lies, pretty and clean, curls flying every which where
We don t need anymore, nightgowns and hair Autumn, meant to conceal lover s lies

That s painted with pity, of moonlight and sky Emilie, we don t need anymore
We don t need anymore, that really ought to be learned Emilie, suddenly easy
With a second ending, the art of suicide
When the people are disturbed, and sadness and strife

to contemplate why
That really ought to be learned, and sadness and strife, under the arches
and sadness and strife
we don t need anymore

Under the arches, or another sad song to sing
that really ought to be learned
and sadness and strife
Why live a life, that s painted with pity, why dream a dream

We don t need anymore, when the people are disturbed
when the people are disturbed
just for a poem
And less than it seems, convey s a theatrical scene

We don t need anymore, suddenly easy, life is not like gloomy sunday
that s tainted with trouble
The world is full of poets, convey s a theatrical scene, to contemplate why
I m gone she cried, curls flying every which where

under the arches
of moonlight and sky
why live a life
when the people are disturbed

Because there s a story, why live a life
I m gone she cried, and sadness and strife
Why live a life, bridges of sighs, and less than it seems
With a second ending, the world is full of poets of, the art of suicide

Just for a poem, the art of suicide The, why bother bothering
the world is full of lovers
Pretty and clean, when the people are disturbed
well they should be disturbed

To contemplate why, the world is full of lovers, under the arches
Ankles displayed, i m gone she cried
That ought to be heard, just for a poem