Trust lies shivering by the hedgerow,
Her life bleeds into cold cataracts.
I see an eclipse in those eyes, rainfall;
of starlight trapped in bottles.
My thirsty gaze will always remember.
Dead, and I pierce her body with shards of me.
What is afterward left.
Your face:
Years wasted blending with a poet's eye;
I have only a lifetime to forget.
My painful sleep unearths buried seasons,
It is only ev'ry morning that I cry;
Soft laughter seeps into aching wounds.
Please kiss me,
Kiss away the cuts you've torn--
The knives in your eyes bled my joy lifeless.
I still thee hold in my loneliness,
And wish that I could die in your false embrace,
Holding you forever in a moment of the past.
My Helen of Troy, please, this war makes me tired.
Belial
Rosier
Pain
Liar
I will never trust again.
Garden Song/The Curve That To An Angle Turnd Video (MV)
Maudlin Of The Well - Garden Song/The Curve That To An Angle Turnd Lyrics
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Trust lies shivering by the hedgerow,
Her life bleeds into cold cataracts.
I see an eclipse in those eyes, rainfall;
of starlight trapped in bottles.
My thirsty gaze will always remember.
Dead, and I pierce her body with shards of me.
What is afterward left.
Your face:
Years wasted blending with a poet's eye;
I have only a lifetime to forget.
My painful sleep unearths buried seasons,
It is only ev'ry morning that I cry;
Soft laughter seeps into aching wounds.
Please kiss me,
Kiss away the cuts you've torn--
The knives in your eyes bled my joy lifeless.
I still thee hold in my loneliness,
And wish that I could die in your false embrace,
Holding you forever in a moment of the past.
My Helen of Troy, please, this war makes me tired.
Belial
Rosier
Pain
Liar
I will never trust again.
Her life bleeds into cold cataracts.
I see an eclipse in those eyes, rainfall;
of starlight trapped in bottles.
My thirsty gaze will always remember.
Dead, and I pierce her body with shards of me.
What is afterward left.
Your face:
Years wasted blending with a poet's eye;
I have only a lifetime to forget.
My painful sleep unearths buried seasons,
It is only ev'ry morning that I cry;
Soft laughter seeps into aching wounds.
Please kiss me,
Kiss away the cuts you've torn--
The knives in your eyes bled my joy lifeless.
I still thee hold in my loneliness,
And wish that I could die in your false embrace,
Holding you forever in a moment of the past.
My Helen of Troy, please, this war makes me tired.
Belial
Rosier
Pain
Liar
I will never trust again.