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Agnus dei
Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Agnus dei
Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Dona nobis pacem
Dona nobis pacem
pacem
Dona nobis pacem

[Translation:]
Lamb of God
You who take away the sins of the world
Lamb of God
You who take away the sins of the world

Give Us Peace
Give Us Peace
Peace
Give Us Peace.

The mind has so many pictures
Why can't I sleep with my eyes open
The mind has so many memories
Can you remember what it looks like when I cry
I'm Trying, trying to tell you
All that I can in a sweet and velvet tongue
But no words ever could sell you
Sell you on me after all that I have done

I'm only the one you love
Am I only the one you love?

Is true love a trip to Chinatown
Or being held in one's opium gaze
Under the peach trees
There I'll sit and wait

Is true love a long walk through Bryant park
Or being held in the month of May
under the peach trees
There I will be, will be until you come and get me
Cause I'm so tired of waiting in restaurants
reading the critics and comics alone

Little sister come and sit beside me, beside me

And we'll play a tune on this old piano forte

Just for a while, just for a while, just for a while

Til your hair becomes a powdered wig
And I become a total bastard

Feet that hardly reach the pedal

Sold to a tremendous shadow

Ave ave history is on my side

So complain have no shame

There I was in uniform
Looking at the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then

He was not that much older than I was
He had taken our class to the Metropolitan Museum
He asked us what our favorite work of art was,
But never could I tell it was him
Oh, I wish I could tell him --
Oh, I wish I could have told him

I looked at the Rubens and Rembrandts

The drummers and jugglers in Montreal
Don't even exist at all
So I'm tearing up these tarot cards and Venetians clowns
Antique shops and alcoholic homosexuals
You may ask why I want to torch my home town
Partly it's bitterness and hopping 'round and 'round again
On Ontario Street looking up
Maybe I'll catch him on his way to the show

You travel the world and find all the answers

I don't know what I'm doing
I don't know what I'm saying
I don't know why I'm watching all these white people dancing

I don't know where I'm going
But I do know that I'm walking
Where?
I don't know
Just away from this love affair
I can't say that I'm cruisin'
Not that I don't like cruisin'
Just that I'm bruisin from you

I can't say that I'm waltzin'
Not that I don't like waltzing

He will then be reborn

From 1970's porn

Wearing tubesocks with style

And such an innocent smile

Better pray for your sins

Better pray for your sins

'Cause the gay messiah's coming

He will fall from the star

Studio 54

And appear on the sand

Of Fire Island's shore

Better pray for your sins

Better pray for your sins

Never thought of Hades
Under the Mississippi
But still I've come to sing for him
So southern furies
Prepare to walk for my harp
I have strung, and I will leave with him
Relax the cogs of rhyme
Over the Memphis sky
Turn back the wheels of time
Under the Memphis skyline
always hated him for the way he looked
In the gaslight of the morning
Then came hallelujah sounding like Ophelia

Waiting for the present, for the present to pass
Waiting for a dream to last
You are not my lover, and you never will be
'Cause you've never done anything to hurt me
There's a fire in the priory
And it's ruining this cocktail party
Yesterday I heard they cloned a baby
Now can I finally sleep with me?

Diving through the rising, through the rising waves of night

Maybe in you I'll believe
Maybe I'll believe in you
The future of my understanding of love
Many a time I've before
Before I've many a time
Knocked a stranger's door
Discretion hardly I'm known for
Probably has nothing to, nothing at all in the world to do with you
Just your lower lip on the floor

But baby I gotta get through
Crumb by crumb in this big black forest

An old whore's diet
Gets me going in the morning
Ain't nothing like it
Gets me going in the morning
To say I love you
Gets me going where I want to
Oh, gets me going
Oh, gets me going in the morning

[Repeats]

Hell, either here or Hell will do
Either here or Hell will employ you
Suicidal assistance
An old whore's diet

Written by Gilles Vigneault

Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
J'irai planter dans le jardin
Fleur à fleurir de beau matin
Moitié métal, moitié papier
Pour me blesser un peu le pied
Mourez de mort très douce
Qu'une fleur pousse

Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
J'en ferai sur l'air de ce temps
Chanson chanteuse pour sept ans
Vous l'entendrez, vous l'apprendrez