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In the beginning we were scrambled together |
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mixed in a celestial bowl and hand fluffed with a feather |
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and the tears of bliss were not amiss |
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it was a good daythe second day, we created the earth |
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tickled in irony as we made love upon it's girth. |
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and to our delight, the sun gave us the starsthe creation of the moon was a miracle of light |
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descended from the rift in the dark star of night |
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my veins pulsed butter as it illuminated your thighson the fourth day, we felt compelled to whistle. |
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For how could we call the love birds to nestle |
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and keep us company in this world anew and fresh?Today I paint to life, a portrait of the sacred friend, the perfect wife |
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in synesthesia |
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together we have filled the world with colored wine |
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but the story nears the present time |
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of restlessness and wake up calls |
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wake up!Years have flown fast but then who's counting |
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the wars have been won but there's few left standing between us |
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and the shadows of christmas pastcritically acclaimed but sadly underrated |
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fortune definitely favored us, but no one celebrated |
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our wits were splitting at their ends...we gazed upon the city lights |
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we each laughed aloud one final time and agreed: |
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this is one thing we'll miss...and as we held our breath and forced our will |
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the minutes stopped, the air was still |
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and minds began to unlearn their faulted waysWe blasted through the hills! |
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they were the first to go, and the most painful so |
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because we made them first when we learned to bleed |
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with our fingers on the seeds that sowed in the dirt |
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and then cried when we came in the glorious masterwork of life ending |
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and beginning againwe ignored the pleas of the forest and the seas |
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as we scorched the earth with our tears... |
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we burned them in fear |
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until there's nothing left |
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nothing left |
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nothing, nothing left |
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but us |
