True or false, the life of man

Beneath her dress, so soft so thin

Not wicked thoughts, explains he shakes

For God's sake hold the key

Locks in this agony



Your armes are positioned, but they are not nailed

You look for the pacifist, but he went

He's lost in the maze

These winds are cold and its walls will press his face



True or false, impulse of man

Hits his girl, she swirls across the floor

And as she falls, bites out his tongue

Black strips on the birch

Man's eyes bulge ans burst



He shouts "pacifist help!" but he cannot hear

He's lost in the maze

The rock cuts his back

And the wind will press his face.... press his face...



True or false, impulsive man

Erase the face from smile to scream

Must keep his hands inside his head

Tear lines in her clothes

Bruised hands hold the rose



So now you must wait for the honey to come to your throat

Your arms are splinters

But they will scrape the disease from his face

Press his face.... press his face