With her head in hand she awakens
to another day of emptiness..
She is like her porcelain dolls she
keeps on her window sill, with a
fixed expression and colorfully
painted cheeks and clothes..
Time and the painfull years had
glossed over the yearnings of her
little girls heart, and the woman
she'd become had left her eyes
stained in hopeless tears
In early sunlight she'd pick up a
porcelain doll and imagine a lost
happiness
She'd look to the heavens and whisper
her timeless prayer, 'when shall it be me
when shall my turn come?'
But cruel years had turned her heart into
bitter stone and her dolls seemed to mock
the beauty of her soul.
Then one night she dreamed a dreams dream
Her lover spoke to her in a souls song..
He said, 'Oh, my beloved child, I would touch
the apple of your soul and fall on your lonely
heart as the spring rains carress a thirsty
field
I would clothe your neck with rainbows of
love such as the world has never seen..
And my love, when time has breathed its
last..I will lay my head upon your naked
legs and with bleeding roses in my right
hand we shall walk through heavens gate..