Petals for Pablo

Yeah, owe, Pablo, yeah

I used to write beneath the fading Sun
Turning every wound to words for everyone
I scattered petals where my footsteps fell
Believing poetry could break a spell
My hands were stained with ink, not blood
I planted verses where the silence stood
And every rose that trembled in the rain
Carried a little piece of someone's pain
Then one day I looked into the eyes of evil
It smiled at me as if we'd met before
I never knew that shadow at my table
Would be the hand that closed the final door

They said that Pablo chose to say goodbye
That he surrendered underneath the sky
But death came suddenly, inside a needle
Quiet as a secret, cold as evil
No final letter, no last farewell
Just one more story they were paid to tell

I scattered petals all my life
But someone scattered lies around the night
I had reclaimed my finest poems
Gathered every wandering child back home
Bound them in a book beneath my name
Little sparks that soon became a flame
And when the world began to turn the pages
My words escaped their carefully built cages
People read the love, the rage, the scars
And carried every line beneath the stars
But there were hands afraid of what I'd written
Men who feared a poem more than guns
So while the world embraced the words I'd given
They gathered up my books one by one

They said that Pablo chose to say goodbye
That he surrendered underneath the sky
But death came suddenly, inside a needle
Quiet as a secret, cold as evil
No final letter, no last farewell
Just one more story they were paid to tell

You can bury the poet in the night
But you cannot teach his words to die
They built a fire
And threw my pages in
They fed the flames
With paper, verse and sin
But every word that disappeared in smoke
Was already living in another soul
A thousand books can burn beneath your hands
A single verse can cross a thousand lands

They said that Pablo chose to say goodbye
But poets leave their fingerprints on time
And if that needle stole the final heartbeat
It never touched the rhythm of his poetry
Burn every book, erase every name
Turn every beautiful page into flame

The petals rise where the ashes fall
And Pablo's words will outlive them all
I used to write
And scatter petals in the rain
You took the body
But the poems still remain
And somewhere underneath a blood-red sky
A burned page rises and refuses to die!