Bled upon a thorn, New music hollows me In the entrancement of singing voice, By her entertaining sound Of drums upon skipping beats Whenever she's fallen In arms as wide as the sea. I created the ocean For the faces of the moon, Using hands that could not ever stand Were my eyes to be laced to my soles, To see Hell's birth of the sun, A fawn of fires, blooming outright. I dream, though I cannot see any higher. Love is a note for me To strangle of strings. I would hang myself by my own veins, Loosening myself to triumph, For I have caught the sting of the flame That has been birthed beneath my feet. Her hair singes itself in the dawn of a swollen vessel. Each strand to each vein, Each lock to every artery Clogs the light to be let through That I might kiss what suffers In the heat of her majestic nature. Does she live to lie, While I lay here to die? The currents that race to the sea Sprawl a new sentiment That I might view her beyond.