Deep in the silence that cannot speak
There is a sadness that blooms and breathes
Battered by twigs and fallen leaves
Lungs of air thin and bristle ribs
Blossoms of dark trajectories
Skeleton figures in submarines
Drowning in lies of jubilee
Halos to hold to sink or swim
Beauty in scars of skin cut deep
Loving the thrill of broken swings
Capsuled in valleys far from dreams
Living on salt and crystalline
Lucidly slipping on ice so thin
Autumn in winter summer springs
Nomads run free on vast prairies
Flowing through veins of tributaries
Tasting the new blood on their lips
Lining a cusp between their hips
Blade descends slowly tongue in cheek
Building a palace with their twin teeth

Deep in the silence that cannot speak
There is a sadness that blooms and breathes
Sadness in brooding symphony
Sadness in chants of majesty
Sadness that rises like morning glory
Sadness that flourishes like a disease
Tracing our bones from link to link
Constellate like stars and planet rings
Sadness that thrives on melancholy
And the synthesis of metal and skin