The Art of Your Pulse

Rosa del Lete

if I could bribe
this life with roses
I'd plant as many as my desires
Their thorn would bite
and tear the thin cloth we wear
to hide from judging eyes
And the roof would fall
under the weight of fall
and poulverize the walls
then the rain would leak in
and turn into a river
where the remains float over

on them we carry on,
carry on as we behold
first a seed then a rose
that from the Lethe drinks
growing tall
on them we carry on,
No force blocks me down
first a seed then a rose
that from the Lethe drinks
growing tall

and slowly rises
through time, space
and life's barriers and
firmament's bounds
it's bloom unfolds
many forgotten souls
moving, dancing to
an ancient rhyme,
a spell on the night
that suddenly arrives on us
on my desires
on all the ruins beneath your eyes,
the remains of my life

on them we carry on,
carry on as we behold
first a seed then a rose
that from the Lethe drinks
growing tall
on them we carry on,
No force blocks me down
first a seed then a rose
that from the Lethe drinks
growing tall

and we carry on,
carry on as we behold
a seed in my heart
that once grown it'll tear down walls
now to carry on,
carry on when you need solid ground
just take a single rose
that from the Lethe drinks
growing tall

Moving Parts

The ploy now has failed more
than just once, but took none
of the moving parts of your world
the ticking art of your pulse

If you'd like I'll make a story of me
for you to write down and hide
or just to tear and burn