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why write i still of you and only of you
that you and our love are our argument
and knowst that hurt u'll be only when you read

why learn did i not after many times the shadow piles on the building bricks
that bricks of love tempers into pressure and thus wrinkles
and knowst life is but beautiful n beautiful it seems you made it to be

why love this much for you when all i paints seems only be hate for you
that May pass and August comes still the birds could not sing how much i love you
and knowst even i could not place tempo and forte on my love for thee

why hope i still of love when love is but a word
that maybe even mother and papa and you are less than a word-love
and knowst that you are life and life is heavier than love

why break i wont the glass when its trembling with prints and steps
that all will all but praise me for the sun i rise and set for them
and knowst that only the eclipse know of my rain and clouds.

why give your roads to me when we have to ride on knives after i bend the directions
that blind a fool like you gave me the knives when you are in esctasy
and knowst i will use them because i like to stab

so look! knowst me knowst i will not sever the roots trying to make the bees leave
because roots suffer bees don't
we cry words don't.


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