A deafening roar invades the quiet situation,
it's a blast from the past, evil and painfully slow.
It's beauty gleams in the light,
and the crowd turns their heads.
They recognize this picture, this painting, this art,
it's back and full of furry.
The feelings. They never died, they just hid,
hid from all of the other faces of love.
They were fake, they were ugly, they were too weak,
it's back, the feelings, they're back.