Russian Roulette
true Marafiki are hard to come by...
yet when wewe catch them wewe feel like wewe can fly...
wewe trust them,
upendo them,
and talk of future...
wewe know that they will never lie...
and inayofuata to them wewe stand side kwa side...
wewe upendo them,
hug them,
and share smiles with eachother...
oh how it feels when wewe know your important...
that wewe know wewe have some one to comfort you...
wewe hold their hand,
skip down the street,
and feel no defeat...
true Marafiki are hard to come by...
but hold them tight so away they dont fly.
yet when wewe catch them wewe feel like wewe can fly...
wewe trust them,
upendo them,
and talk of future...
wewe know that they will never lie...
and inayofuata to them wewe stand side kwa side...
wewe upendo them,
hug them,
and share smiles with eachother...
oh how it feels when wewe know your important...
that wewe know wewe have some one to comfort you...
wewe hold their hand,
skip down the street,
and feel no defeat...
true Marafiki are hard to come by...
but hold them tight so away they dont fly.
My senses all are backwards
and it really makes me wonder
if on the siku that I was born
somebody made a blunder.
For, strange but true, my senses
all got totally reversed.
Now everything I like the best
is what you'd call the worst.
I only like the smell of things
that frighten other noses.
I upendo the odor of a skunk.
I hate the smell of roses.
I only like the taste of foods
that cause most folks to shiver.
I hate the taste of chocolate.
I'm crazy over liver.
I'm not too fond of music
but there's simply no denying
I like the sound of honking horns
and little babies crying.
I hate the feel of silky, velvet
softness on my skin.
I much prefer the way it feels
when sitting on a pin.
I hate the look of anything
that's really cute and snuggly.
The things I think are pretty
are what most consider ugly.
So let me tell wewe one zaidi thing
before I have to go:
I think wewe are the most attractive
person that I know.
and it really makes me wonder
if on the siku that I was born
somebody made a blunder.
For, strange but true, my senses
all got totally reversed.
Now everything I like the best
is what you'd call the worst.
I only like the smell of things
that frighten other noses.
I upendo the odor of a skunk.
I hate the smell of roses.
I only like the taste of foods
that cause most folks to shiver.
I hate the taste of chocolate.
I'm crazy over liver.
I'm not too fond of music
but there's simply no denying
I like the sound of honking horns
and little babies crying.
I hate the feel of silky, velvet
softness on my skin.
I much prefer the way it feels
when sitting on a pin.
I hate the look of anything
that's really cute and snuggly.
The things I think are pretty
are what most consider ugly.
So let me tell wewe one zaidi thing
before I have to go:
I think wewe are the most attractive
person that I know.
wewe seek for spark of hope.
Your life held by
darkness thoughts,
anchor is
some place else.
Bad luck follows wewe
like a hook,
won't let wewe go,
won't leave wewe alone.
wewe smile today,
and cry whole eternity,
like that's your fate,
disturbing thoughts
to lie inside of you,
to take away everything
that wewe hope for.
Devil is calling your name,
leaves wewe not,
wewe don't see the Angel on
your shoulder,
trying to give wewe a strength.
wewe long for life
that wewe don't know of,
wewe seek for peace,
trying to get away
from misty forest
that stains your heart
into black.
"What of the dews of dawn,
Love's flower, what end is theirs ?"
"And what of spirits flown,
The souls whereon doth close
The tomb's mouth unawares ?"
The Rose alisema to the Grave.
The Rose said, "In the shade
From the dawn's tears is made
A perfume faint and strange,
Amber and honey sweet."
"And all the spirits fleet
Do suffer a sky-change,
zaidi strangely than the dew,
To God's own angels new,"
The Grave alisema to the Rose.
*****************************************************
LA TOMBE DIT A LA ROSE
La tombe dit à la rose :
"Des pleurs dont l'aube t'arrose
Que fais-tu, fleur des amours ?"
La rose dit à la tombe :
"Que fais-tu de ce qui tombe
Dans ton gouffre ouvert toujours ?"
La rose dit : "Tombeau sombre,
De ces pleurs je fais dans l'ombre
Un parfum d'ambre et de miel."
La tombe dit : " Fleur plaintive,
De chaque âme qui m'arrive
Je fais un ange du ciel !"
