even if there was
        one hundred things
trying to pull you apart
        i will be the magnet
to keep you together;
        so tear at your hair no more, dear
        rest not in folly nor worry, wrapped
        are you in the improbable, carefree
        hands of wind
irrevocably prurient, you are who you are
        and we'll trust the flowers
                and the
                     lands that
                        their future
                            love will hold
                        like candles, like scenes
                        from bucolic picnics;
                their lands of death will treat them kindly
                but for now it's you and i, and i and you
        i have screamed violent silence
but now i want a turn to be loud unto you
           tear each tress away,
           my dear, i will still love you