I think of blues as flowers grow out of the bruise; the rusty old chair sings songs of you. Eyes have shrunk, tears have dried, wrinkles on my skin have nothing to hide.
Life was bittersweet, people fell like teeth; I wash my hands with a few good deeds; you know, to live is to sin. There was a time when I wasn’t old, my body was glitter and gold, dreamt with my eyes closed but the world had already been sold.
Took a path, took the next; there was love, there was sex. Then came tears, then came blood, pain and joy; hands, crimson red. You were here, you were there, where were we? Everywhere.
Mirror says it isn’t me; what am I? What do I see?
Come on in, have some tea,
Pray for all the hopes I’d kill.