И двете са на английски, и са текстове за песни, но доколко ще бъдат реализирани...ще се разбере за в бъдеще.
Дотогава съм доволен и на коментари само в/у текстовете.
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"The Memoires of a Happy Suicide"
Will there be some space in this pandemonium black?
Will you give me black sheets, will you fix me a bed?
And will you give me some bandages, I think I just bled?
I will tell you the story of the dying I had
A broken bit of glass along with the wine
I drank it and I wonder why my insides hurt
A little more of the same and I'll be just fine
I broke a whole window, I hope it's enough that I put
Now I'm cutting my hands to stop their bleeding
Oh, I wonder where's my mistake...
I'm smiling as my blood is constantly streaming
Oh, I wonder why is it not stopping off...
You watch me and scream to me things like tourniquet
Oh, don't look at me like that, you know I'm okay
And yes, the carpet was red even before, and yes it was wet
There's no blood on the floor, that's what doctors will say
Will you even care if I died today?
Will there be some space in this pandemonium black?
Will you give me black sheets, will you fix me a bed?
And will you give me some bandages, I think I just bled?
I will tell you the story of the dying I had
A spoonful of acid to wash me inside
It is a surprise that I want to scream so much tonight
I guess that four spoonfuls will make me alllright
Is it good if a shake like a puppet without wright?
Should I bathe and then sit for a rest
Then plug myself to electricity to feel like at best
Should I jump from a high place and be like the rest
Or should I lay on a railroad and wait for the last
You watch me and scream to me things like tourniquet
Oh, don't look so sad, you know I'm okay
And yes, the carpet was crimson, and yes it was wet
There's no blood on the floor, that's what doctors will say
Will I even care if I died today?
Will there be some space in this pandemonium black?
Will you give me black sheets, will you fix me a bed?
And will you give me some bandages, I think I just bled?
I will tell you the story of the dying I had
Will there be some space in this pandemonium black?
Will you give me black sheets, will you fix me a bed?
And will you give me some bandages, I think I just bled?
I will tell you the story of the dying I had
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"Dirge Is Not A Popsong, Baby"
Oh, dirge is not a pop song, baby
It's not a love song, not at all
Oh, dirge is not a pop song, baby
Dirge is what I'm meant to be
We play a maudlin piano in a place for you and me
The notes are on torn papers so we play it in quaver
Our hearts were our own, but they cut themselves free
They changed their places and they return the favor
Of breaking them by thinking how we were supposed to be
It needs more and takes more from a broken pianist
So he decided to give in to the hearse and to live forever
We should check out our clocks, and check the death list
To read our names and to write the coal-black letter
And apply to the Grim Reaper, to tell him to take us in mist
Oh, dirge is not a pop song, baby
It's not a love song, not at all
Oh, dirge is not a pop song, baby
Dirge is what I'm meant to be
And in the lonely hours of aiming at our hearts with arrows
Darling, I came to know how poisonous can your shots be
When the deadlock you released got all my fit-up sparrows
And my bowstring cascade pierced your heartfelt plea
When all smoke cleared up from our burning, it was left to see...
The requiem melody is played out loud in this scene
The wails of the undead are chilling us, but we don't bother
And if they kill us, and if the white on your face is clean
Remains what cannot be taken by the claws of any other
In the ashes of our bodies, left behind's your love to me
Oh, dirge is not a pop song, baby
It's not a love song, not at all
Dirge is what I need, my lady
Funeral is what you need from me
Иначе браво. Не че ти пука много какво мислят околните де. 
