Petals fall on the
brow of your skull
A whispering wind
passes through hell
These are not the seas
in which I choose to
dwell
What is it that you
need
A lock of hair to plant
the seed
A slap of justice to
bring you to your
knees
A weeping willow
with silken leaves
You wished Mother
Earth would cower in
her sleep
Yet it’s in her dreams
in which she’s freed
Take from earth what
you will
Mother moon will
watch you choose your
thrill
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