كلمات Wounded

The rain impinges upon the earth again blissfully The trees sigh in the wind and sway with distilled purity Stench of reverence permeates the talk of love Cloudless skies of blue need you now think of you Curve of your neck is beautiful Shape of your face is elegant Gaze but poignant still But memories stained Second stain of consequence Fruit is rotting and then the crowd turns around to go back home Views so empty but sane proceeds on its way to the grave Curve of your neck is beautiful Shape of your face is elegant Gaze but poignant still But memories stained Second stain of consequence Oh consequence This is consequence This is consequence