The orchard of black and white people. Can you taste the dazzling sun, bleaching the leaves.
Can you smell the scent of the blossoms, the wind carrying the scent toward you.
And the people, do you see their strained faces, they smile, hiding the emptiness of their world,
the orchard.
A paradise, hiding the perfect hell within.
And the people, do you see them?
Their porcelain faces, with glass eyes and broken smiles. Holding their hands toward you,
drag you in, to their perfect paradise, of hidden hell.
The orchard
Can you hear the birds, in the trees, their throaty song, calling, calling, calling you into their world.
Can you hear the magic of their hypnotizing voices,
drowning you in the perfect paradise,
the orchard.
The wind, ruffling the leaves,
moving the shadowed ground,
a crazy kaleidoscope of shape,
and movement.
And the people, do you hear them. Do you hear them speak
with the tongues of broken language, ancient tot he world,
falling on deaf ears,
the perfect paradise
the orchard.
