"A blindness that touches perfection"

In fear every day, every evening
He calls her aloud from above
Carefully watched for a reason
Painstaking devotion and love

Surrendered to self preservation
From others who care for themselves
A blindness that touches perfection
But hurts just like anything else
Isolation, isolation, isolation

Mother I tried please belief me
I'm doing the best that I can
I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through
I'm ashamed of the person I am

Isolation, isolation, isolation
But if you could just see the beauty
These things I could never describe
These pleasures a wayward distraction

"Isolation", letra de Ian Curtis
(15 de Julho de 1956 — 18 de Maio de 1980)