I pose in foam
Attracting no one
I'm on my own
I'm torn
Forming extinct species
Just like my own
Naked to the bone
I'm torn
As white turns black I know
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
As white turns black I know
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
I smile at wine and downers
A blade, the phone
I'll quit this all time low
I've sworn
My legs shape Vs and Ss
Amid the storm
From this sea of red
I'm born
Or torn ?
Or am I ?
As white turns black I know
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
As white turns black I know
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
If you love me you will find me
Attracting no one
I'm on my own
I'm torn
Forming extinct species
Just like my own
Naked to the bone
I'm torn
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
A blade, the phone
I'll quit this all time low
I've sworn
My legs shape Vs and Ss
Amid the storm
From this sea of red
I'm born
Or torn ?
Or am I ?
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
It's light these pictures lack
A tree of life that has no leaves
I'm feeling grief beyond belief
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If you've seen the video you'll guess it's about a man who doesn't feel anymore, or who feels alienated and depressed, so attempts a suicide, but "wakes up" in the middle of it ("from the sea of red he's torn") and lives on. My 50 cents.
As posted by Frank Spinath at seabound.de:
TORN is all about suicide, through and through, every word - every single letter. Like a microscopic scene, a tiny stone in a huge mosaic, still reflecting the overall pattern, self-similar. We are bound to witness the final moments of our narrator. Together we are taking a bath, we observe. Lots of foam, he is toying around, forming shapes with his limbs, we smile. Warmth, at last. Further props? Candles, wine, downers, a blade, a phone.
He is alone and we know that there is no happy-end to this scene today...
We imagine the moment when his life fades away, when colours fade, sounds fade. A final image on his retina, a carbon copy lacking colour, a sad silhouette.
WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING SAD?
You won't see the cut - he does it underwater. But...
Prepare to see the water turn red. Prepare to see his face go pale. Prepare to see him wait. Desperate - until he passes out.
IF YOU LOVE ME YOU WILL FIND ME...
Oh, he left a loophole... How clever. Are you waiting? Are you growing dazed? Are you losing hope?
SHE will not burst through the door. SHE will not call. SHE is not thinking of you right now. SHE won't even move.
SHE NEVER DID.