so i guess this means you're my hopeless muse

we'll dance along the parapets
and let our bodies fall into the night
and the moon will be our guide,
while the peasants below chant
"Merry, my friends,
the world is ending,
O! this is the end."

and we'll fly into the cirrus clouds
and tumble into sheets of white
and the sun will steal our lives,
while the cities below scream
"what, damned fiends,
the ice is melting,
we're drowning again!"

so the moon is our guide
and the sun steals our lives,
the clouds are a bed
and the castle our clothes

the cities are screaming
and the peasants all shout,
"come out, you liar,
come out."