oranges and bells
sometimes it's the way she tells
the green in the meadows
and the darkened sighs
of someone who knows
the fields are now graves

strawberries and horns
raspberries and moans

sometimes I wonder
if there's any sweet dream
that'll become true


grey skies and red seas
as it rains far in the horizon
and the storms are upon us
with their roars chasing us

monsters and honey
phantoms and bliss

you grow inside the trees
and whisper in her ears
the sun is just a flower
that wishes that you were here

love scattered wildly