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Silence drawing the crowdSurely you would have knownNever could write it aloneWoven webs cover the wallsWine stains on the floorOf the Oslo novelist nowCome tomorrow this will all be goneFinally nothing to sayMore empty words on the pageHold a glass all the ribbons are dryRaise a toast for the novelist tonightSun down fell, starting to wakeTragedy at a timeGetting later and later every dayWords in lines collideCan't decide, how to make this end any other wayCome tomorrow this will all be goneFinally nothing to sayMore empty words on the pageHold a glass all the ribbons are dryRaise a toast for the novelist tonight Aus Songtexte Mania