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Mon pays, c’est le beau soleil Mon pays n’est pas le dur hiver Mon pays est un Éden souvent vert
I remember how heaven was With no worry or war I took heaven by its word With no will or choice to veil my gift or hoard.
It is another spring It is a brand new season Another day of light rain falling Another semi-sunny day again
Whether she blamed him or he blames sheThe fall was always meant to be.The gift of knowledge,Forever blessed,Born from the woman’s mess.Yes it is she, sheWho stole the apple from the tree,
W e jumped into the pool late one night, E veryone’s clothes still on, ears waterlogged. L ooking down, I saw my pink shirt C linging to the cold curve of my hip,
We will have peace, Whether we are in Eden, Or Gethsemane. For we will rise with the sun, And we will eat sweet fruit, From His vineyards. We will go to the water,
I feel the earth under my back, pressing against me as I am pressed against it, equal so that there is no tremble. The world is still. I let my fingers lie loosely, the apple that had rolled out of my hand still only a foot or so away.
What’s the use of lacrimating hallow tearsthat spill over past and future worries?Past and Future have gone astray,despite your dismayhave you forgotten? Past never was and future will never be,
The beautiful shine of your golden skin---It nearly blinds my eyes.Surrounded by a crown of golden leaves,
Tumblr asked me where my Eden is, Referring to Eden as a place or state of great happiness, And all my thoughts immediately went to you. You, with your perfect, almost nappy hair,
Let me take y’all back Back in time Somewhere between the nights Somewhere without the lights Where you were the only person in my life That can make this thing we call lust feel so right
Insidious dreams on the Eden of man A generation held in a pharmacist’s hand The crow is the devil and the devil rides thee Cigarettes are sold at the children’s tree Now thee shall know the human touch