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We are the roses in the garden, beauty with thorns among our leaves. |
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To pick a rose you ask your hands to bleed. |
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What is the reason for having roses when your blood is shed carelessly? |
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It must be for something more than vanity. |
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Believe me, the truth is we're not honest, not the people that we dream. |
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We're not as close as we could be. |
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Willing to grow but rains are shallow. |
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Barren and wind-scattered seed on stone and dry land, we will be. |
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Waiting for the light arisen to flood inside the prison. |
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And in that time kind words alone will teach us, no bitterness will reach us. |
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Reason will be guided another way. |
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All in time, but the clock is another demon that devours our time in eden, in our paradise. |
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Will our eyes see well beneath us, flowers all divine? |
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Is there still time? |
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If we wake and discover in life a precious love, will that waking become more heavenly? |
