Poisoned Hearts

There was something deeply wrong with Paris.

Maybe it was the red lights.
Maybe the cigarettes.
Maybe the way the city looked after midnight.

Or maybe it was her.

A face I kept seeing everywhere.
On walls.
In magazines.
Across crowded rooms filled with strangers and smoke.

Always watching.
Always disappearing again.

I never knew her name.

But after that winter, I started forgetting the names of everyone else."

- Ville Valo, Paris, 1999