Well these scars upon my soul Are self-inflicted All that I can hope For is to try and fix The things that I have brok- en (all that I hold sacred) Please don't let me go We both know I've got no body to blame And no mind to blame But my own
Hedges are cut by clippers. Leaves falling like water over cliffs. Those hedges are hairs cut by clippers. A beard shortened like a lawn mown.
Legs and arms are falling from their bodies, Cut by sharpened edges. Bloody limbs falling like water over cliffs. Cut by sharpened edges, like the hedges...
The hedges of Eden are cut by slithers. A short beard kissed with a long moan. The glory of Paradise withers. Shame cuts short what could have grown.