Lletres: The Indelicates. A Single Thrown Grenade.

I will strip away all my associations
I will only mean the things I choose to say
I will hear no dissent, hear no negotiations
No bleats of fear to calm my thoughts astray
No paradoxes, puzzles or reflections
The things of time shall cease to concern us
I'll be a single falling star into a lake so still
That the ripples will be perfect on the surface
The ripples will be perfect on the surface

I will know for certain if he's up there
And I will know for certain if he's not
Either will be balm for this aching
For all the things I want and haven't got
I'll know the scorching hearts of our evil
Don't know the simple nature of my fear
I'll be a single thrown grenade into air so still
That the shock-wave forms a perfect sphere
The shock-wave forms a perfect sphere

The sun burning over California
The predictable beauty of a flame
The thrill of your fingers in the evening
The glory that I witness in your name
I don't want to wake up tomorrow
And I don't want to get old
I will kiss you as the walls come tumbling down
And the sheep sit bleating at the fold
The sheep sit bleating at the fold