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lirik lagu faded flowers – jerome pradon

i can recall a time before the age of tears
a time when nights were short and banquets went all day
a time like a garden
a time like a bouquet
as i would hold a flower
so i held you near

you would complain that flowers wilted in this place
so cut off from their roots
they’d only go to waste
then you would say ‘forgive me’
i would laughingly foresee our future bright within a cut glass vase

back at that time
i would have loved to be a poet
and like appolinaire sing
to your lilac eyеs
but how the time was short
as it went flying by
i lovеd you that was all
and never thought to show it
i didn’t beg the muse to bring me poetry
i didn’t count my fingers
or polish the rhyme
i loved you* nothing else
it isn’t such a crime
the poem of your body was enough for me
it was before the age of tears
it was a time when
flowers were mine
the flowers on your bedside table slowly fade
on your way to oblivion
you are fading too
i only want to lie
a moment here with you
as i compose a canticle that’s most profane
with the help of these flowers
let me find the way
to sing of your dear body
perfectly portrayed
first take the chrysanthemum
burning like the anthem of your hair
the color of an autumn day
then moving down the face that worry can’t attain
across your forehead to the thicket of your brow
your venus fly*trap eyes are hungry waiting now
to be compared to morning glories after rain
no, rather talk of columbine
of flowering thyme
of blues that turn to grey
of colors never dead
the morbid mauve of clematis is to be found there
let me embrace the sad horizon through your eyes
the color of before the age of tears
a time when tears were kind
remember there within the creases of your ear
preserving you from harm are sweet forget*me*nots
and when your anger takes control of all your thoughts
an iris petal pulses at your throat just here
those sudden fits of anger swept across your face
just like a storm across the tossing fields would race
and then a peony would grow
whose boiling blood would flow
when you bit your lip in a burst of rage

you see i think of you and flowers just appear
there in your spreading blood a field of poppies grows
the reds of your body
answer me like echoes
when i cry ‘flowers!’
the word ‘blood!’ is all i hear

red * the heart of narcissus that your stomach bears
red is the golden fleece
and red the peaceful glen
red * the carnation which so bewitched verlaine
red is your s*x, an endless red beyond compare
passion has drowned in the age of regrets and tears
the age of tears

i cut your life short as i would a flower’s stem
without a second thought
i stripped your branches bare
i drank the water
dried your flowers without care
as i behold your death my head begins to spin
this body that i loved
this flesh that tempts me still
will suffer prayers, procedures
and assorted ills
a bouquet on the rubbish heap
i find i’d rather keep to flowers made of taffeta and silk

so give me lilies made of pearl
or made of tin
dead autumn leaves and plastic roses by the score
i must convince myself
as i keep gathering more
that the language of flowers is no longer living

there, there! don’t worry
i’ll be still
you mustn’t smile
to hear my song as sad as a december day
it’s more than time to throw these rotten flowers away
then let me stay here in your room for just a while

- jerome pradon

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