Title: The Rose
Author: Chibi
He was in bloom the day we met
He was with me as our sun was set
Splendid and perfect, like a pearl
Or the sky of stars, forever sleeping
Desperately left for their weeping
Presents a cry from us all
And conversation was left to the wind
And the guilt for those who'd sinned
No merciful thoughts in our minds
We watched the world crumble, hand in hand
And we saw the seven-year rain fall like grains of sand
And pelt the people with their hailing tears
I watched him smile for years together
Until our games and sights were teathered
Never again did a grin cross his features
And there walks the man with a bible in his hand
As he ambles up to strangers, asking for a can
And a nickel or two for his stale slice of bread
So now we sit in our rocking chairs
Our lives shorter than our aging hairs
One hundred years we've known this event
Would present itself at the perfect time
Like a turning table upon which spins a single dime
It rules the Earth like a God
And here is Death with his judging hand
On our doorstep with his one demand
To take our heads first, to place them on his mantel
And next go the heads of the world, in defeat
So listen to my friend, the rose, as he meets
A maker of which only we two could have known
...
...
...
Author: Chibi
He was in bloom the day we met
He was with me as our sun was set
Splendid and perfect, like a pearl
Or the sky of stars, forever sleeping
Desperately left for their weeping
Presents a cry from us all
And conversation was left to the wind
And the guilt for those who'd sinned
No merciful thoughts in our minds
We watched the world crumble, hand in hand
And we saw the seven-year rain fall like grains of sand
And pelt the people with their hailing tears
I watched him smile for years together
Until our games and sights were teathered
Never again did a grin cross his features
And there walks the man with a bible in his hand
As he ambles up to strangers, asking for a can
And a nickel or two for his stale slice of bread
So now we sit in our rocking chairs
Our lives shorter than our aging hairs
One hundred years we've known this event
Would present itself at the perfect time
Like a turning table upon which spins a single dime
It rules the Earth like a God
And here is Death with his judging hand
On our doorstep with his one demand
To take our heads first, to place them on his mantel
And next go the heads of the world, in defeat
So listen to my friend, the rose, as he meets
A maker of which only we two could have known
...
...
...