Her skin was shaded purple,
as dark as a violet flower.
His eyes were as dark as his clothes
which covered his soul.
They were the Earth's natural form of shade
and fertilized the soil and its past
with tears of despair and drops of pain.
Yet you scrape them off as if they were
tarnished gold or dirty platters.
Only thorns and whips have carressed their bodies,
and laid themselves on beds of nails.
But purple is the passage to "world peace"
and wait for the return of the Higher Being.
Purple turns to blue ...
You choke them with rotten ropes
enslaving them with rusty chains.
With your voice you enrage the madness
tearing their scars 'till the earth floods with blood ...
Yet I who appears as light as day
may wear a purple dress
and hello is all you say.
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