Perhaps it is what that makes the tree to choose the land it needs.
And its what that makes the womb to choose the woman it needs.
May be its the tear that chooses the reason it needs,
and makes our eyes to choose the tear it sees.
And may be love helps the men to choose the god they pray and the food they prey.
But in reality, Love gives no choices, its ruled and written.
All you oughta do, is to stab, the damn son of Mars,
And wait for him to stab you back, with a revenge he’d been waiting for.
Its worth dying for, to die Desperate, to live Deadly, to remain Divine.
Let the Lust be Divine, the Love be Deadly
And the world be desperate to hold it both.
When the world questions, your love answers.
When the love answers, it wrinkles your senses,
Kills your tenses and takes you closer to the princess.
The one in a crowd is bored,
The two in a crowd are thrilled.
The one in a night is asleep,
The two in a night are bored.
If it was divine, it might be;
If it were deadly, it would be;
But as it isn’t, it ain’t. Then, it is the d’sperate thing you’d ever need.
Perhaps it is the love that chooses the end it needs.
And its the lust that chooses the way it ends.