(from) Better Than Sleep: Bruised Petals (3) – After years of the wandering life

After years of the wandering life,
In Paradise now I wait,
Knowing love come and gone,
Too late.

Years among thistles growing,
Thistles in bloom,
Beauty tearing and pushing,
Make room!

This is the Garden of Love
This is Paradise, Hell
The garden where all loves end.
Look well.

Hell to an angel above
But I, born without wings, chose
To find in the Garden of Love
A rose.

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