jwglass

I hear crying in that garden So full of fruits and beauty There must be a baby in that garden How cruel that fate would be I hear crying in that garden Where are its parents, guardians There must be a baby in that garden Does anyone out there care? The crying stopped in that garden Yet no one has come or gone There must be a fallen baby in that garden A child that never knew love, hope, or care It's a shame it died so young It's a shame it died alone It's a shame it died with nothing Except its crying drone

The bottle in the mirror, Thinks its bigger than it appears. Its hips with the chips, And one big ass, Made of shapely glass. The thoughts it feels are horrid, Its plans for improvment are wrong, Its motives for being changed, Are more than deranged, They sound like a sad sad song. This bottle's life is twisted, Shaped and molded to fit, Its curves and shapes, Belong to trendy apes, Who don't give a damn who you are...

As liquid gold running through my fingers, Our time is running thin. Every second, Every moment, You hear the sad song Of a heartbroken violin, As shining tears of silver fly down my face, Our time is almost gone. Every second, Every moment, You hear the love song, Of a pianist in the dawn. My soul within yours, Your soul within mine, We will always be together, Collecting with the golden dust, And silver tears, beyond all fears, Listening to the enchantment Of an entire loving symphony.

That whisper in your ear, The one no one can hear. The mumbles and jumbles, Rasps and gasps, The loss of breath, The abscence of a beat, The tightening of the body....and the cold. The icy cold breath on your ear, As i touch your shoulders one last time, And whisper to you my friend, "Yes, someone has died today, And that someone was me."