The Academy Of Sun - Rose Devoid Of Form

ROSE DEVOID OF FORM Gather your memories, it's soon time to leave, I was dreaming so hard I could get reprieve. I look out on the knackered and screaming dead streets, And as my skin clatters around my feet – Think of me kindly for I am become the storm. Even the gangsters I once thought so cool, Have been made grey and coarse in pursuit of the cruel, Howling recidivists, saints of the dregs Many have lost the use of their legs. Think of me kindly for I am become the storm. The slate-marble skies leave a stain on your soul And the month in hotels was like walking on coal, Being beaten by monks with blue ice on your spine, Yet still being insistent that everything's fine. Think of me kindly for I am become the storm. The love that we made out of crystal and heat, Inside of each other, our bodies complete. Once was the hour I'd lick your tiny feet, The wax and the welts and the torn, battered sheets. Think of me kindly for I am become the storm. Mute applause as the sun barely bothers to rise, Pearly grit in our hair and the moon in our eyes. We've all done our time in the palace of dreams, Unravelled reality, ripped at the seams. Think of me kindly for I am become the storm. Gazing back at the frescoes so hopeful, so drear I pose like a half-life-made-flesh puppeteer Marionette of my memories, dangling like bones From my worn, hook-like fingers, all creaks and all groans. Think of me kindly for I am become the storm. Time is elastic, I'm no longer child: Savage and stoic and wired and wild, Watching history repeat in the clutter of bars From my cold, lunar cliff-face on the furthest of stars. Think of me kindly – for I am become the storm Think of me kindly – for I am become the storm. Blood-red white noise, a rose devoid of form Blood-red white noise, a rose devoid of form Blood-red white noise, a rose devoid of form...