An Empty Garlic

You miss the garden
Because you want a small fig from a random tree
You miss the beautiful woman
'Cause you're joking with an old crone

It makes me want to cry to see how she detains you
Stinking mouthed, with a hundred talons
Putting her head down over the roof edge to call down
Tasteless fig, fold over fold, empty as a dry rotten garlic

She has you tight by the belt
Even though there's no flower and no milk
Inside her body
Death will open your eyes

To what here face is: a leather spine
Of a black lizard. No more advice
Let yourself be silently drawn
By the stronger pull of what you really love
Of what you really love

She has you tight by the belt
Even though there's no flower and no milk
Inside her body
Death will open your eyes

To what here face is: a leather spine
Of a black lizard. No more advice
Let yourself be silently drawn
By the stronger pull of what you really love
Of what you really love
Of what you really love
Of what you really love
Of what you really love
Of what you really love



Credits
Writer(s): Jalal Ad-din Rumi
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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