We make love
Creating it out of the desperate nothingness that's left
Creating it out of the desperate nothingness, a barren battlefield that's scarred by years of war
We make love
Molding it out of the blood-stained earth that lays barren
Molding it out of the blood-stained earth, dirt that's been over-plowed by years of greed
We make love
We make love,
But what does love make of us?
After the love is made,
the fields are still barren, the dirt still bears no fruit
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A glimpse into what I think about pretty much everything -- whether you like it or not.
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