Uneven & Brittle from Ninth by Peter Murphy

I stay away, when you burn me like fire.
I’m unmatched as I’m lazy.
You spit as you say: I get crushed by my dreams,
that I clawed and begged for.
It’s myself, I deceive. I got all, I asked for!
If I wait in deep sleep, there’s nothing there
to pray for.

Uneven and brittle Is there fruit on our tree?
Those altered dreams, that I saw there: Now back at us
cracked. And loving care notions break as they retract.
It’s the morning here now: There’s somepeace but
no laughter. It’s myself, I deceive. I got all, I asked for!
If I wait in deep sleep, there’s nothing here to pray for. Un-
even and brittle Is there fruit on our tree?
[The Spirit Master from whom we spent… I sit
now and see: All mine was pretence.]

It’s myself I deceive. I got all I asked for! If I wait
in deep sleep, There’s nothing there to pray for.
Uneven and brittle. Is there fruit on our tree?

• Alternative
• goth
• indie rock
• post-punk
• Istanbul