Rock, paper, scissors...SHOOT!
Throw me your play, right on your cue,
Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!
A rock on my palm and a paper on you.
And paper beats rock, and so I guess it's true.
Like when your gentle parchment soul,
Washed over my heart of colored coal.
And as your sweet touch enveloped me,
I knew I wanted it, and needed more.
Rock, paper, scissors...shoot.
A paper in your hand, to soothe my wary roots.
Permanent ink is marked on my skin,
and it coursed through my veins and in my mind it lived.
But once I was of marble stone, I am a prey to shatter,
Until you coverd me, that I realized I mattered.
That maybe paper doesn't beat rock by concealing it,
It protects it from the harm of any waiting scissors.
Rock, paper, scissors...shoot!
I fear for the day, you have a scissors on you.
Cut me not, break me never.
I wish never to be your target to sever.
I have your words on my skin, they're a strength that I have.
Please don't take them back, by cutting me in half.
And what hard stone that I may be,
darling, I implore you to see---
You're my paper, you never defeated me,
You became my sword, when I stood wary.
Could you, perhaps, touch the irony
Of the rock and paper and scissor trilogy.
For when stone stood hard and still,
It fused it's strength and broke at will,
Like feather, her softness had her filled.
And while her paper, lies flat and still as death,
It surpassed the power of a sword's strength.
Rock, paper, scissors...shoot,
a rock for me, and a paper for you,
and I'll embrace you, and in all your strength
my everything you've endured.