Hear them whispering french and german, dutch, italian and latin. When no-one's looking, I touch a sculpture. Marble cold and soft as satin. But the most special, are the most lonely, God, I pity the vi.olins.. In glass coffins, they keep coughin'. They've forgotten, forgotten how to sing. They will stay in their gold frames forever, forever and a day. All the rowboats in the oil paintings.. They keep trying to row away, row away...... (Why the heck is vi.olins censored?!)