Karma Violins

Sunken are the eyes of my creation

into a glass containing smelly puss

Whatever sense of gratitude I may have felt

It went away too soonHe was your son, I was your daughter

and the dream would last a million years

Embraced by the song of a million weeping strings

and all forgotten thingsThe wheel was my father's

and mine was the stickIf you ask who made the castle crumble

and who is left to blame

I guess my answer to your question

will most surely beHe played his strings through me

revealed my symphonyThe wheel was my father's

and mine was the stick