كلمات Pens

From across the hall, your skinny arms are waving And when I fall, I go down hard but struggling Still, the muted sound of trumpet finds me in the dark When the wind blows round as it comes off the ocean Or the Sun beats down on shoulders of the broken Will we realize the wonder of staring into space? Hollowly we drown in cracking leaves of brown Till shaking free again, we sit down with our pens And bleed ink Bleed ink I picked a petal out my sleeve this morning In my hand it fell to pieces without warning If the spring has come then why do the flowers wither still? Tomorrow we'll be found in cracking leaves of brown Till breaking free from pens we find ourselves again And bleed ink Bleed ink