Become Divine

The sound of one hand clapping is somber solitude,
is a single falling raindrop..
Serenades, the storm, the voices, harmony wishing to be sung.
I am an angel falling to the dirt and I've become
an angel falling to the dirt.
No sanctuary.
no solace,
found in these once were sunshine eyes are blackened
So close, so cold,
They echo the days I waste in the wonder of it all.
This is the face of disguise.
There are trees of divine. (?)
This is the heart I lay out for you.
I give it all to you.
I'm sick of wishing I would die.
I want to live, always two-handed guiltless heart
and offer my own listening palms
to wish, to dream, to love, to live, to wish,
to dream, to love, to live, to wish,
to dream, to love, to live, to wish
I wish would I occur, to you.
I wish I would occur, to me.
i wish I could occur.
This is the face of disguise
There are trees of divine. (?)
This is the heart I lay for you.
I give this to you, you.
The sound of one hand clapping is sadness.
It becomes voluntar to bitternes.
It becomes volunteer to uglyness.
It becomes volunteer to deathness.
When the trains are always leaving~