Close my eyes with steady hands,
while my soul's windswept in timely sands...
In pure molten perfection,
I find your solemn face...
Beyond the shards of glass I see,
A corpse whose spirit's begun to flee...
What is a seed? If not a flower.
What is a flower? Had it been not a seed...
What is a seed? If not a flower.
What is a flower? Had it been not a seed...
Wading in the placid mist,
of my memory's demise...
Through the purple meadows,
Along the yellow pines...
Beyond the shards of glass I see,
A corpse whose spirit's begun to flee...
Her brows are a patchwork,
of her fading hope...
The intrigue in question lies not always in the answer, the answer lies not always in relation to what is being questioned; what lies, does so souly to question the answers |
A smile might be worth a thousand words, but a smile forgotton is the pain of a thousand lonley hearts. |
"your grip on my heart is like mine on sanity...save me to love me...love me to save me... save me to hold me forever..." |