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letra de rosebuds - michael stephen moore

[verse 1]
in the room where women come and go
talking of michelangelo
they’re staring off the terracotta and marvel at the marble
offering every daring artist a hand to hold
in this present moment of the past
their creation’s been abandoned far before the final draft
and we work to make it perfect to the sound of eternity
so let me embrace these sour adversities
a moment’s peace for the mona lisa and no relief
i know that she ain’t the bold physique that you hope to be
so much feeling to hold in free tiny glowing screens
i hope and dream that they’re close to me when i go to sleep

[chorus]
rosebuds
cold touch
gold rush
i’ll be left to wonder what color my soul was
rosebuds
cold touch
gold rush
i’ll be left to wonder what color my soul was

[verse 2]
alone in your chamber
cold as a glacier
memories of old friends taper
while the strangers celebrate your acquaintances made of paper
how did you get to be here?
the reason you released the wheel to let it be steered
by the drunken hands of ambition will never be clear
you remind me of a man who was prosperous while impoverished
and i’m performin’ a reconnaissance to find his monument
but i’m confident it does not exist
but on these cliffs in it’s absence, the monolithic inhabitants
known as profit blissfully crafts itself an apocalypse
you tell me that’s what the problem is, but i’m not convinced
[chorus]
decorated with rosebuds
shutter at its cold touch
flock to the gold rush
i’ll be left to wonder what color my soul was
decorated with rosebuds
shutter at its cold touch
flock to the gold rush
i’ll be left to wonder what color my soul was

[interlude]
ah, and ruby rings
how can a world [?] take the the place of armor lost
can they compensate for my fallen state?
purchased as they were at such a, such an awful cost
bracelets, lavaliers, can they dry my tears?
can they blind my eyes to shame?
can the brightest rose shield me from erosion?
have the purest [?] purify my pain

[chorus]
death is gracefully decorated with rosebuds
pulls you under as you shutter at its cold touch
and as the lost and forgotten flock to the gold rush
i’ll be left to wonder what color my soul was
death is gracefully decorated with rosebuds
pulls you under as you shutter at its cold touch
and as the lost and forgotten flock to the gold rush
i’ll be left to wonder what color my soul was

- michael stephen moore

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