Rachelerika Henderson

We are all the children in gods garden
Created to watch over with his all seeing eyes
Every saint has a past
Every sinner has a future
...

Put the movie on she said
So we can escape into it
To escape from this reality
that keeps dragging us down
...

The midnight whispers
Float through the air
Through echoed places
To reach you there
...

KARMA
Karma watches through cosmic disguise
For the bait of lifes comprimise
she converses in an untold story
...

We are all only human no wonder we're confused
We have contradictions in magazines tabloids and the news,
She is quite pear shaped, but it's child baring hips
God forbid at a certain age, she'll kiss her child upon the lips
...

I stood up front of human race
I stared in the eyes of deaths face
She released her harness and bowed to me
With her coreless natured empathy
...

Events take turn beyond our knowledge and control
We are enslaved to perceptions within our soul
Whom choose to perceive us in different ways
From minutes to seconds, from hours to days
...

He was taken away, In light of day
He soul slipped into a silent trip
countless people lined the streets
breathing echoed heartbeats
...

A beautiful world, a poet appears
He opens his mind, he blinds his fears
He holds out his hand, She reaches to grasp
He knows she's the one, he wants it to last
...

burnt into your memory
the cascading paths of two seperate lifes
One so rich colourful and ambient
the other feels such emotion
...

oh writhering creature, you died along time ago
gone was your soul, floating accross the plains
to borders of unknown
i keep afloat in this world
...

five hundred men go to war
the loss of lives whats it for?
some await unexpected return
some lay down and wait to burn
...

go wearily into the night
follow the etched path to the moon
the crystal clear raindrops
have been warmed
...

feel my passion burn
like a galaxy of stars
like a soul of guitars
like a lone trumpet
...

Its the trivial things that count
sitting on a porch on a summers day
listening to tunes
smelling the freshly cutt grass
...

I built this wet blind cave
In which to dwell
Some call it artistic
I call it burning hell
...