Gray petals of bombs fall on us
crack the body?s puzzle.
We know how it bends to metal?s will
how it forgets
the meaning it carries,
when broken.
Some say the meaning goes away.
I want to see it.
Burned eyes are petals
from a black rose
we love and fear
even in our dreams.
And you dream too,
Instrumental
verse 2
we?ve seen your eyes rush under lids
at the checkpoint of subconscious,
burn through stolen scenes,
what others felt
when bombs fell. If petals
are made of ash,
what can we know about the flower,
its smell,
its proud posture,
it?s shortmlived optimism?
Some say the meaning comes later
I want to see it. As you learn, your end,
See the body?s ironic puzzle,
its checkpoint,
its unanswered question ?
nothing is firm here, not even the harm we do
nor how we carry and strangle,
and fail to strangle the meaning of you.
the meaning of you
the meaning of you