Oh the madness has begun, the seven thousandth
year!
For each tear is everlasting, I think
She flies with her special ears
As she hears such lightning,
I am a human to my cause, once again
And once again I tremble to her madness
Trapped in a paper cup
And the voodoo has me rising in tears
Oh I freight through the years, for my sorrow
is heavy
Methinks the world is going nuts!
Oh what a safe cave I\'ve been endearing
For the dearest lies are true;
Don\'t fret, my little moth,
Everything will be okay
For the heart of hearts is ever so resistant
And all the broken lies you have seen
They fall before your eyes
And your human lust is no longer there!
I beg to differ
In a house that is stolen,
And truth is where this all comes in
The flower on the grave,
For she speaks of truelove
And truelove alone,
There can only be flowers in dismay
So what do we have on display?
For the moth speaks of ancient times
Embodied by the grave,
The dearest of them all...
And why must we convey
The language of the forest?
For there is darkness all around
And broken hearts surrender,
Surrender to the grave my son! Surrender
to the grave!
For your story reigns true to the north;
For up there, there is a mystery unfound
Behold the lairs are bound!
If I am losing you, dear moth
The sight is certainly unseen!
For the boys running down the hall are
brief...
Behold a child of grief!
What\'s going on, my dear moth?
My dear moth has a thundering seed
And lightning has its bondage
I can\'t believe I\'m right, my dear;
Oh my dear, have you noticed lately
The dearest trees on the farm?
For I have listened to the willow tree
Sparkling again,
Oh dearest moth! Oh dearest moth!
Does the breath of poetry make you rise
again?
For I have fallen into your trap...once again!
Hear me speak my open flower
Make love to me in your depth,
For the depths of love are ruined
For I am a little moth too.