a rose colored potion,
a promise to get you,
you think you’re unharmed
by the hypnotic motions,
and shielded by
the petal filled jar,
and as you stand before him
between mahogany walls
they shine rose-red
and you think
you’ll lie to sleep with seven different flowers
beneath your head

and his watered, intense stare
mirrors your black night gown
as you stand bare
you swoosh around
in your fairytale
watching yourself through his eyes
and the flowing fabric
is all there is to hear
and the man before you
is all who is near
as he keep his eyes plastered
you swear you see a mesmerized tear

you stumble unto the bed
splash down on rose petals
they rise and fall
unto your face like rose-freckles
and he walks up to ya
looking down with a grin
but his soul peek through his eyes
as if he’s never sinned
and you think his shackles remains
till he reaches to his pockets
to throw petals on your face
they fill your mouth where you’re lying
and behind you there’s something he’s eyeing
he reaches under your pillow
to throw seven different flowers as a final,
and give you seven different kisses,
before you’re dying

Your tears, they fall like crystal rain
Each one a song of sweet despair
I trace the edges of your pain
And lose myself in shadows there

My baby, you're a dream undone
A broken hymn, a bleeding star
Still shining when the night is gone
Still beautiful, just as you are

Your scent, it haunts my every sigh
A ghost that clings to skin and bone
Your lips once red now whisper why
And leave me feeling more alone

I love the way you fade away
Like smoke that slips through grasping hands
A rose that wilts but dares to stay
Still blooming in the shifting lands

You're lost to time
But in my mind you linger, true
A tragic song, a dying rhyme
My darling, I'm here and still I worship you

id sneak out from my room,
though id only might see your costume,
and in the meadow of your perfume,
you illustrate my dreams

how you always wander and hide,
darling in you is where i can only confide,
and in your meadow of my pride,
you illustrate my dreams

half of my words have you heard,
through the people and the poems and the songbirds,
and in your meadow with no words,
you illustrate my dreams

how easy it is to claim your name!
with all my love, where is my shame?
but in the meadow, i see your mane
and you illustrate my dreams

he’s too real
to dehumanize
and his soul peek through his eyes
his skin too warm
to **** him off my mind
he’s merely a madman detained
but his smile remains
in the skin of my loved love
that id still love
if i’d let him go unchained

war on war,
with millions signing deaths lease,
war on war,
what spectators call peace,
common people,
wishing death
upon shooting stars,
wishing death upon
common people
battling in war,
wishing for their ma
upon the same shooting stars

is it the soldiers, dead in war,
that you speakers are?
is it your life taken
in disagreement
of your leader?
is it your body lying
underneath the graveyard?
is it your loved ones attending
tears seeping,
while reading
your unredeeming
death ballad?

hey, mister,
i’m sure you’re looking for someone i know
i’m sure you think
you’ll see her in the distance,
flowers in her hair, free and fair,
bathing in the meadows air,
living her life of subsistence
but oh, mister,
isolation has caused
the cease of her existence

a young doll,
with cynicism of eyes turned old,
when eyelids would fall,
so would her world,
living again once they’d open
her words were unspoken
but never untold
i’m sure it is her
that you’re looking for,
but oh, mister,
your eyes are shut with precision
in this instance,
isolation has caused
the cease of her existence

i’m sure you could see her run free
oh yes i’m sure, i guarantee
the birds would sing with her above
a familiar tune by wise trees
about knowing it all
before it begun
yes a song that would teach
how life and grief always would meet,
i’m sure it is her
that you’re looking for
oh yes i’m sure now, listen
it is without resistance, mister,
that isolation has caused
the cease of her existence

if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

i’d tell you a tale
of all of my life’s history
but it would all be derailed and all sound pale
in the words of my mouths contradictory
so i’ll leave you with my frail words for the cemetery;

if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

when i’ll die, i’ll die artistically
candle lights, speaking words lyrically
and if youll ask me if i could go back and do it all again, if i’d make a change,
i’d say in a heartbeat
and if i did, i wouldn’t have to repeat

if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

for i didn’t do it my way,
i did it life’s way
if a decision could have swayed
me in another direction,
i would be happier, in the life of my correction,
that got lost and died with life
while i waited to come back to mine

so if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

and to my life, i miss you
and to my cat-child, i miss you
and to my moms eyes, i miss you
and to my sister-child, i miss you
and to what was once mine, i miss you