I heard a screeching through the darkA reverb with a familiar frightA voice with a similar fightI heard the darkness through the lightSo I turned off the lights and fed it to the nightCareless how remorselessCareless how shameless-Our lives' a sheer mess and the mere possession we can harnessMuch accustomed to our customsIgnorant to these coffinsBecause we too focused on concealing the blunt storiesBeneath the dead bodiesWhere dreams lieBroken and forgottenScattered in segments of memoriesAnd still, not found peace
When I behold a forest spreadWith silken trees upon thy head;And when I see that other dressOf flowers set in comeliness;When I behold another graceIn the ascent of curious lace,Which, like a pinnacle, doth shewThe top, and the top-gallant too;Then, when I see thy tresses boundInto an oval, square, or round,And knit in knots far more than I.Can tell by tongue, or True-love tie;Next, when those lawny films I seePlay with a wild civility;And all those airy silks to flow,
Sweet serene sky-like flower,Haste to adorn her bower;From thy long cloudy bedShoot forth thy damask head!New-startled blush of Flora,The grief of pale Aurora,Who will contest no more,Haste, haste to strew her floor!Vermilion ball that's givenFrom lip to lip in heaven,Love's couch's coverlet,Haste, haste to make her bed!Dear offspring of pleased VenusAnd jolly plump Silenus,Haste, haste to deck the hairOf the only sweetly fair!