There are flowers in your hair,
the soft pink of a rosebud
but what will you do, achilles,
if the flowers are made from blood?
you sing like the world will end,
like you can swallow it raw.
like the world is all yours, achilles,
and you’ve driven away god.
and still achilles is soft,
his love, sunlight on winter skin
till achilles’ eyes shine without reason,
the storm never reaches him.
the days here are long, too precious to lose,
we sink into the earth.
the nights suck the colour out of the sky,
remind us of our worth.
and in the shadow of the day,
in a rose quartz cave,
in the songs of the spring,
between frail, paper wings,
he slams down his crumbling walls.
the golden age is here, achilles.
if you look at me to feel real,
if you look at me and feel something like love,
the end of the world is near.
and there is desperation somewhere outside:
tell me what you see in achilles.
hey fear the unknown, they fear you and me:
do you want to be or be with achilles?
but achilles is the way the river roars.
he is the taste of revolution, i sigh.
achilles is the silver moon come out of hiding
his pride is a dwindling high.
achilles is gentle, achilles the killer,
achilles is wildly in love,
achilles is the golden child of the sea,
he fears no god above.
and have you ever lost, achilles,
the only person you used to fight for?
have you ever found
that there is nobody you can die for?
for here i am on my knees, achilles.
my body ill fit in an armour that’s yours.
you have made me into a crazed monster,
you’ve turned love into a bloody war.
and in the dead of the night,
he dreams i’m alright,
and achilles falls again.
at the break of dawn,
he knows i’m still gone,
drags madness around walls again.
and achilles falls with a smile on his lips,
achilles falls with grace.
we are doomed and lovelier for it, he knows
as he waits for my embrace.
and in the empty mornings after achilles falls,
they bring flowers, soft pink, to his grave
and when they return home, leaving achilles behind,
the flowers begin to fade.