The smell of a dry sheet of paper is reminiscent of the day of autumn in love. Dead trees remember the touch of your fingers. I'm shove the key in the keyhole, maybe I won't linger. Who knows when I'll be real? I made a deal with Satan. I'll kneel Please keep the smell of incense while the paten is in the church I'll clean up my search It's breathing, but you're not now, I know I hope you'll be in the air when I hug a birch You grow up darling, I know, I just don't want a show. So there's love in the air right now. Who knows when I'll be real? I made a deal with Satan. I'll kneel Please keep the smell of incense while the paten is in the church I will beg, pray, ask for forgiveness Despite the fact that I know that there is no God Holy repulsiveness. It's a odd request if you're already dead.