|
Will you ever see this blood |
|
Of children sticking in your mud? |
|
Observing their world going insane |
|
Once lost but they'll be strong |
|
Again |
|
Take the letters down |
|
From your old bookshelf |
|
Lurking photographs |
|
All the desperate notes |
|
Peel your own image from the mirror |
|
Sit down by my side |
|
Tell me what I've done |
|
Try to change your mind |
|
Once you've been my one |
|
See with what simplicity we could love |
|
Wallow in memories |
|
We stood by a pond that winter day |
|
And a few leaves lay on the sod |
|
They had fallen from an ash |
|
There was no sound, just you |
|
Just you and me talking |
|
And then four words |
|
Played between us, still whispering |
|
Let us be one |
|
Were I alone, |
|
The world itself would be a desert to me |
|
Thorns devour |
|
And beasts annoy |
|
And my guilt terrify me |
|
The earth a wilderness |
|
And me in solitude |
|
Her: |
|
You are alone |
|
But most upon melancholy |
|
Because void of you |
|
Will you ever see this blood |
|
Of children sticking in your mud? |
|
Observing the dark league of the sun |
|
Once loved but now you're gone away |
|
Life and love must be more than this |
|
We stood by a pond that winter day |
|
And a few leaves lay on the sod |
|
They had fallen from an ash |
|
There was no sound, just you |
|
Just you and me dreaming |
|
And then four words |
|
Played between us, whispering |
|
Let us be one |
|
I don't know how the things |
|
Could end the way they did |
|
Her: |
|
I am alone, |
|
And now the world itself is a desert to me |
|
Thorns devour |
|
And beasts annoy |
|
And your guilt is justified |
|
I'm a human wilderness in solitude |
|
A subject unto storms |
|
Because void of you |
|
Help me |
|
(...and I step into my heart and meet |
|
The demon singing small |
|
Who would like to shout and whistle |
|
In the streets and squelch the passers |
|
Flat against the wall... |
|
'cause I'm balancing above an ocean |
|
Of expectations, fears and human stiffness |
|
You don't feel the yearning of speech, |
|
Those patterns of my dreams, |
|
The unseen genius of the wood or |
|
The urgency of courageous reason |
|
Will you ever feel? |
|
Will I ever break the spell? |
|
Am I alone? |
|
I don't know... ...to seem the stranger |
|
Falls my lot, escapist of your day, |
|
Shadow of the saddest truth: |
|
Your life is an almighty lie! |
|
Love, a subject of |
|
The mere diurnal grind |
|
Lying upon the ground |
|
Feeding upon roots |
|
Love, a subject of |
|
Our deepest fear |
|
All things desolate |
|
Like a tragic mask) |