Machiavelli’s Room Songtext
von Hamish Hawk

When I cradle him
Yes, when I cradle him in my arms
Curse the gathering storms
Burn their uniforms if they do him harm
All my battle scars are (healed by his charms)
All my dead guitars (sing when he strums)
And in truth I barely notice now
When he′s naked from the waste down
Uh-huh

I feared I was close to love
I felt him fit me like a glove, no kiddin'
I showed him hidden things
He coaxed them from hiding
There′s nothing he likes more than to watch me disappearing inside him
Uh-huh


Days don't exist (days don't exist)
In a bad bedroom like this (bedroom like this)
When he shrieks like a siren, I (admire him)
When he shrieks like a siren, I (desire him)

Sure, it′s sick on the surface
We′re both unfit for our purposes
We twisted fate and fell four storeys of fresh hell
I always fall for the stories you tell

Gone, the dirges through the hall
This prince is pinned against me wall, he's grinnin′
He's true as broken skin, I′m more Machiavellian
For when I cradle him I whisper crushing rebellion

Days don't exist (days don′t exist)
In a bad bedroom like this (bedroom like this)
When he shrieks like a siren, I (admire him)
When he shrieks like a siren, I (desire him)

Sure, it's sick on the surface
We're both unfit for our purposes
We twisted fate and fell four storeys of fresh hell
I always fall for the stories you tell