oh what a beautiful friend
death then seemed to be
as the stars cannot shine for my eyes
as the night cannot shield daylight
as sleep could not take everything away
as day never refuses to exile night in dismay
as the sun could not help the wilted flower,
as the child holds its moans from its mother
as the mother takes the broken flower,
and cradles it gently across her palm,
hymning
he loves me,
he loves me not,
death loves me,
loves me not;
loves me,
loves me not,
loves me,
loves me n-
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
oh what a beautiful friend
death then seemed to be
as the stars cannot shine for my eyes
as the night cannot shield daylight
as sleep could not take everything away
as day never refuses to exile night in dismay
as the sun could not help the wilted flower,
as the child holds its moans from its mother
as the mother takes the broken flower,
and cradles it gently across her palm,
hymning
he loves me,
he loves me not,
death loves me,
loves me not;
loves me,
loves me not,
loves me,
loves me n-
