Different Pulses

My life is like a wound, I scratch so I can bleed Regurgitate my words, I write so I can feed And Death grows like a tree, that's planted in my chest Its roots are at my feet, I walk so it won't rest Oh, baby, I am lost. I try to push the colors through a prism back to white To sync our different pulses into a blinding light And if love is not the key. If love is not a key I hope that I can find a place where it can be I know that in your heart there is an answer to a question which I'm not, as yet, aware that I have asked And if that tree had not drunk my tears I would have bled and cried for all the years, that I alone have let them pass Oh, baby, I am yours