Oh! Surely it, my sight jesters....
Love to life and life to love, I'm but hurt to look aback.
What more, than a heart that hurts to love..
Ache so chaste. Is it love, my ******* of firsts..
Paint for me green..... Maybe just from lust's way away I could sway.

Love at first, freaky at last.
Who beith the tricked, when rust trickles down the mast?
Sight between teats, a treat to even mow up the mist.
Half moon's curve lips, smile of the goddess Ana.
And yet a heart uncertain of whom to trust.
Is it that warmth you beget amongst a throng of plausible would be's...
Paint for me green..... For trickery is a match not only for those who hold on to fins.

A punctured lung and a leaking heart.
What love causes not even bullets can elate.
Down to up and up to low I fathom scars from love's stunts.
A broken heart? Into a thousand pieces it injures to none.
Is it red that intoxicates?
Is it that red is rare for us to blush at it.
Well paint for me green... I long to more than but stare.

Were we really a match from heaven sewn...?
Is it you that was once my galactical embraided?
You that I thought the world for.
And anything out of nothing I would have obligingly done for you.
How sights seen tend to trick..
How your being forever me pricked.
Paint for me green.... This that threatens to unmake us beings...