Paroles de Pastels

How long until leaves dry And golden apples rot? A whisper only felt in the rain Almost audible but escaping anyway Let's regain the pastels we used To paint our roses red Some things should be in the dark To sustain our hearts lid Underneath unrealities We defy cosmic autonomy One drop a harbinger of the rain Washing all our paint away Explain to me destiny's Morbid sense of irony The threefold pain of realization We have ourselves to blame In the sediments of sanity We pray for redemption A remedy