The wild fragrance of Jasmine sings no more.
The amusing songs of nightingale bloom no more
If you roll downhill in tears of madness and heartbreaks. Child, with just a tiny spark of understanding inside
Your front pockets you’ll survive in the valleys, regardless.
You’ll be crowned with ancient pearly smiles, tomorrow.
Every avalanche of madness comes with hidden graces in her right pockets, but death in plain sight.
Child, it is only those who’ll discover the hidden ocean light within their pain who’ll find their way out of this desertlike darkness; their trying soul’s awash in sanity
Keep me sane, for I’m dreading in an upside-down city.
Keep me safe, for I’m wandering in requiem streets. O’ thy light to shine, most and more
Save this child, this fragile girl. Her eyes have taste
The sourness of deaths call. Death call, to loving parents, and the soul of the tribe.
Of a buzzing tribe that steered her growth,
that made her feel wholly whole, yesterday.
Lord, save this child. O’ save this precious wreck.