01-16-2013, 05:27 AM
To escape from passion prison
Maybe "passion's prison"? I don't know.
I called up the skies above,
That kind of works. Calling up the sky.
I invoked the hindu Kama-
Kamadeva, god of love.
He came to me, a proud son,
A parrot's back he's riding,
There are different perceptions of time in Eastern religions. So he came, and he's riding. Well, I'm crude... but it could work.
A string of coral blooms from sea,
His charming lips, are binding.
A quiver is behind his wings,
Drop the "is"?
He has no bolts, but flowers,
The river Ganga gave him those
To strip away my hours.
A bloom he put to string his bow,
And shot my chest with rapture,
From then I pass the nights alone
In dreams I can't recapture.
He came to me with deadly arrows
To scold my grand delusion
The son from heavens up above
The god of blank illusion.
Maybe "passion's prison"? I don't know.
I called up the skies above,
That kind of works. Calling up the sky.
I invoked the hindu Kama-
Kamadeva, god of love.
He came to me, a proud son,
A parrot's back he's riding,
There are different perceptions of time in Eastern religions. So he came, and he's riding. Well, I'm crude... but it could work.
A string of coral blooms from sea,
His charming lips, are binding.
A quiver is behind his wings,
Drop the "is"?
He has no bolts, but flowers,
The river Ganga gave him those
To strip away my hours.
A bloom he put to string his bow,
And shot my chest with rapture,
From then I pass the nights alone
In dreams I can't recapture.
He came to me with deadly arrows
To scold my grand delusion
The son from heavens up above
The god of blank illusion.