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How love blossoms at the first petals tall and firm The singing of the angels the turning of the worm - you who'd wandered fatherless home to broken home cried out -- cried out -- so I guess I should have known
I, TOO would become the one you'd crave -- the elemental father; the jewel within the cave I, TOO would become your brilliant dawn; the one without whom you were sure you never could go on; deliverer of all that once had gone
Love, the archeologist digs through every vein; through the certain surface and down into the pain - mem'ries buried long ago facing blinding skies strike out -- strike out -- so I guess it's no surprise
I, TOO would become your enemy, would assume the form of demon in your dark cosmology I, TOO would become that dreaded sight from the deepest of your nightmares in the darkest of your night; in that place that we still hold our mothers tight
Of all desires that are born and all that cease to be none has quite the power of the desire not to see - not to see the rose's thorn; the tiny drop of red spread out -- spread out -- guess I could have seen ahead;
I, TOO would become a figure past another one with whom you'd tried but it somehow wouldn't last; I, TOO would become a dull defeat in that heavy chest of bitterness that you drag down every street, inside which our souls agreed to meet; I, TOO have those ways that I repeat.......
(Thank you for reading!)
[This message has been edited by blakeh (edited 09-03-2002).]
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