Can’t you see the painted roses on the table, Sitting in a vase that is cracked in half? Can’t you hear the birds calling from inside Of the ancient forest of delight? I do not want to fight, work, or remember how we did not Get along, How I could not get along
Can’t you see the painted roses on the table, Sitting in a vase that is filled with tears? Can’t you see the minutes eaten by the Insect Waisted figure of the hour glass? I’ve given you my last bowl of understanding, To watched it speared like a carcass on a knife. This is the knife of life, work, and independence, We are only free at night, but that is when we sleep.
