It's the clearance of rapture, the metaphor of capture,
Love is a metaphor, love is a talent, setting fire to our hearts,
The burning bright flame is beautiful, but the flame can harm -
Burning a hole through our chests.

The flaming tongues that whisk one another, heart to heart,
Bloody and weary, the tears trickle from two pairs of eyes,
Best regards and thoughts are sent to us like flowers with a note
From loving memory, best wishes and may God's nature bid you well.

It's the change from one season to another, summer to autumn,
Where the deep red roses turn into decaying brown,
It's the sunny blue sky changing into a rotting brown,
Where grey clouds smother the sun's face, pouring down its cold tears
On the land below

Remember my name I said, on our first meeting together
of all the places in the world. I went out and was thrown
labels. When I returned, you listened to the hurt

Remember the song I said, on the following day, so that you'll
think of me each time. I made a mistake, so I slipped from your arms
and went for a walk. When I came back, you listened to the guilt

Remember, you said, what it feels to be like this, on another day. I
knelt to the ground with my head gorged into my arms. And when I came home,
you held me in your arms to catch the tears

Remember, you said, who you are. I cried and bared my teeth at
shadows, questioning myself. When I returned to kiss you from sleep,
you stirred from the effort of apology

Remember, you said, what I mean to you. I ran into the woods under
the silver moon, ripping branches from trees. But when I came back,
the moonlight on your shoulder outshone my shivering story

Remember, you yelled, what you've become. I went out that night,
pulling and hitting incontrolably at hatred. You cried as you faced the wall.
And when I came back, not even your mind could look at me

Remember, we roared, who you trust, on the beautiful beginning of
March. I reached out to you on the last day we spoke, and when I came
back, you were in the arms of memory.