Eden

We are the roses in the garden, beauty with thorns among our leaves 
To pick a rose you ask your hands to bleed 
What is the reason for having roses when your blood is shed carelessly? 
It must be for something more than vanity 

Believe me, the truth is we're not honest, not the people that we dream 
We're not as close as we could be 
Willing to grow but rains are shallow 
Barren and wind-scattered seed on stone and dry land, we will be 
Waiting for the light arisen to flood inside the prison 
And in that time kind words alone will teach us, no bitterness will reach us 
Reason will be guided another way 

All in time, but the clock is another demon that devours our time in Eden, in our Paradise 
Will our eyes see well beneath us, flowers all divine? 
Is there still time? 
If we wake and discover in life a precious love, will that waking become more heavenly?