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letra de vestal - wut metaphysical

[verse 1]
he fell as a tree desolate in the wood
to make a sound you’d have to hear
but of course n0body could
and what a pity too
cause the songs that it sang
was the sound of true love
on the beat of the rain
can you hear it?
bit your lip and just listen
it takes a beautiful noun
and a man’s preposition
but these normally couldn’t possibly be
because the days are growing evil
and my hearts heavy
i guess there’s possibly
a curse lurking after me
the feeds upon the seeds that i plant in the breeze
or maybе it’s a test or some sort of a trial
and yes it’s been a while
but i can tell by her smile
that she’s the perfect woman
with the perfect plan
to follow god’s son
the perfect man
not many can gleam perfectly
but she’s a true ruby as she was meant to be

[verse 2]
perfection, not a word to use light
although it seems to glow in the dark hollow night
and when i hold tight
i’m called idealistic
and criticized for a hope
that’s not quite realistic
i reject naysayers
i’ve added the math
i know if i stick close to this triangle path
we’ll fellowship together
on that one perfect day
and shut the mouth of the mocker
through this quaint cliche
“good things come to those who wait”
and i’ve waited like a soul
at st. peter’s pearly gates
jealousies conceived
from those who once believed
to settle like a handshake
to mortal enemies
but not me i scream as i take my stand
upon the rock and disregard the sand
not many in all of history
contain a true beauty
this is meant to be

[verse 3]
time stops
the earth holds it’s breath
the cl!ck of her heals
is the only sound that’s left
on the front porch
i knew that only one exists
with hands so perfect that i hold her wrists
i can’t think straight
even though i know it’s time
my mind sifts thought the rifts
of emotional rhyme
waited so long for a true woman renown
given other girls up
when they couldn’t hold down
her eyes sparkle so bright
the stars feel shame
and my soul’s aflame
with who she’s became
the perfect woman
cast down the fakes
and though she’s past through the wakes
of various mistakes
this is god’s own daughter
and she knows her place
so she wears the robes
of elegance and grace
all those replace
any known disgrace
just to touch her face
just to touch her face

she’s so perfect
these stains are still wet
from the rains that i’ve met
and that’s all that left
i tried to forget
but i’m ingrained
by her small arcane silhouette

- wut metaphysical

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