The Pulse of Heaven
The Pulse of Heaven
I'd like your inuendoes to come alive inside your flowering hands, but the weeping mandolin cries into satanic streams where his voice is carried throughout lucid rooftops. However, it is man's thirst for redeeming lost words that salvage a shredded spirit drifting away inside my laughing dessert, and allows the loving light to congregate every drop of water into one solid vessel. Take with you your entourage, and horde all your dreams into this mystical fountain. For I believe in one twilight, the stately Universe that milks the pulse of Heaven, and hands it over to man throughout his journey of enlightenment.