|
All shapes and colours |
|
Rolled and stained in aging hands |
|
Sculpted explosions |
|
Histories unfold |
|
Our Jackson Pollocked earth turns |
|
A silent witness |
|
Lonely as silent |
|
Poets bequeath best attempts |
|
Romanticising |
|
The brutality |
|
Of the ages and of us |
|
Avarice and lust |
|
Love and death, and death and love |
|
Brutal romance |
|
The silver thread, the sharpened knife |
|
A spinning slow-dance |
|
I can't remember before |
|
Warmth in the veins, lead in the core |
|
Brutal romance |
|
You're dripping with gold |
|
Mine is more interior |
|
Yours is sinking you |
|
Men at attention |
|
Devouring a drowning fleet |
|
Epaulettes of charm |
|
Love and death, and death and love |
|
Brutal romance |
|
A silver thread, a sharpened knife |
|
In a spinning slow-dance |
|
I can't remember before |
|
Breath in the lungs, blood on the door |
|
Brutal romance |
|
And I want to sing |
|
Over them and into them |
|
What can't be unsung |
|
And I want to sing |
|
Over you and into you |
|
What can't be unsung |
|
Love and death, and death and love |
|
Brutal romance |
|
A silver thread, a sharpened knife |
|
A spinning slow-dance |
|
I can't remember before |
|
Washing of wounds, won inner wars |
|
Brutal romance |
