What can ever bloom again,
|
When the power to live is missing,
|
Dryness sows hate inside of my heart.
|
Fading lust,
|
A flower made of stone,
|
Forgotten in being.
|
Broken of life,
|
Disintegrated of illusion.
|
The dread lets me feel the force of love,
|
To refuse my power,
|
I hate the thirst of love.
|
It will judge me, judge me until death.
|
Sunday means flesh.
|
|
-----------------
|
Sunday's Words
|
| Caliban |
