I dream of a man
Alone with his rage
Hoping for a happy death
Everything in the world
Was in reach
But the natural thing
The women come, the women go
Speak of Michelangelo
The women come, the women go
Speak of Michelangelo
The women come, the women go
The women come, the women go
Tattoos rise and dance
On the skin of a full life
Caresses them when he feels low
Immortal images mortally thin
Oh
But for now he sees, he knows, oh
That the kind of life he chose, oh
Would be judged and forgotten forever
And now, and now
Yet what is he?
A mortal
I dream of a man
Alone with his rage
Hoping for a happy death
The women come, the women go
Speak of Michelangelo
The women come, the women go
Speak of Michelangelo
The women come, the women go
The women come, the women go
The women come, the women go
Oh
But for now he sees, he knows, oh
That the kind of life he chose, oh
Would be judged and forgotten forever
And now, and now
