Bloom
Bloom
I am made of blood, bone, and brimstone,
Forged in the fires of what's been.
Yet nothing more can be said
Of the comfort of knowing
I have flowers growing under my skin
I am made of blood, bone, and brimstone,
Forged in the fires of what's been.
Yet nothing more can be said
Of the comfort of knowing
I have flowers growing under my skin