Different Pulses
My life is like a wound I scratch so I can bleed; Regurgitate my words, I write so I can feed; And Death grows like a tree that's planted in my chest; Its roots are at my feet, I walk so it won't rest; Oh, Baby I am Lost...; I try to push the colors through a prism back to white; To sync our different pulses into a blinding light; And if love is not the key. If love is not a key.; I hope that I can find a place where it could be; I know that in your heart there is an answer to a question ; That I'm not as yet aware that I have asked; And if that tree had not drunk my tears; I would have bled and cried for all the years ; That I alone have let them pass; Oh, Baby I am yours...; 