Lovers sleep in the rumba waves,
While paralysed spring limps up the breaten wall
Like the girl next door, vines poison wet palms
The pander grows rings around her moist mascara eyes
We are what we are.
The skin shredders, turned to residue and dust,
weeds, sodden summer fruits,
black corsages, dead fractured petals seeping through, staining and
rotting away in our pretentious suits.
So lovers stay away, when time turns yellow
So passive in the suns dance
To you as you are to me

04/01/2005

Author's Note: "All you'll be you are today" - Cornell My little inspiration

Posted on 04/01/2005
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts