Frederick B. Ponder - .flower pot / freckles + flowers. lyrics

Aimless tendencies fill her days, Unknowingly tossing its life away. She has never been taught the error of her ways: A blind eye to a blatant decay. Her slumber follows a star-filled gaze; Her freckled flower, to no avail, prays. Wishful thoughts watch the art of action fade. Blemished beings compose a horrid parade. Calling out by the hour, In search of the freckled flowers: They told me silhouettes lurk within the shadows composed of our fear. Calling out by the minute, Only the freckled flowers can produce a destructive indulgence so infinite: They told me tales of terror, while drawing a cathartic blade. Calling out by the second, In the midst of a fatal fantasy, the freckled flowers possess a soothing presence: They told me a vivid end complements a horrifying existence. Calling out by the hour. In search of the freckled flowers: They told me the cycle ends.