The words can be written, the poems can be sang
Creative mediums for the majestic crowd
Elegance unraveling for the fierce mushroom cloud
Explosion of madness as launching boomerang

We circle the subject, the mysterious cave
Of deep hallowed sadness convincing our prophets
That life is fair and good, yet we chase our profits
For harmful hands of greed, simple pleasures are shock wave

Magnets follow our souls towards an attachment
For two bodies collide as the forces unite
Mysterious attraction that might seem so much trite

Cutting edge of our seats shredding the arrangement
That coupling in our beds of magnified red roses
Is it sweet? Is it sour? Tingling lovers noses