🎵 “Muse in the Ward” - 2🎵

Описание: Verse 1
He walked through halls of sterile lights,
A brush in hand, unraveling nights.
A palette smeared with fading dreams,
His world unraveling at the seams.
Locked behind these whitewashed walls,
Where echoes paint impossible halls,
He saw her there in fevered bloom,
A storm unleashed inside this room.

Pre-Chorus
Her laughter cracked like lightning strikes,
Her mind lit up with brilliant sights,
When mania danced upon her skin,
They made art wild as sin.

Chorus
Muse in the ward, you set me free,
In your chaos I could finally see
The colors bleed, the madness flow —
You were the flame; I was the glow.
But when they quieted all your storms,
You became flesh without the form.
And something in your eyes went still —
I loved your fire more than your will.

Verse 2
She spoke in colors no one heard,
Wild confessions without a word.
He traced her lines like constellations,
Found art in every wild sensation.
Together they tore reason apart,
Created beauty from the broken heart.
But pills came down like winter rain,
And washed away her raving pain.

Pre-Chorus
When calm became her waking state,
He saw a stranger in her gaze,
The spark that burned with fiercest art
Was now a light that slowly part.

Chorus
Muse in the ward, you set me free,
In your chaos I could finally see
The colors bleed, the madness flow —
You were the flame; I was the glow.
But when they quieted all your storms,
You became flesh without the form.
And something in your eyes went still —
I loved your fire more than your will.

Bridge
They stabilized what made you bright,
Tamed the sun that fed your night.
Your laughter now at measured pace,
But oh I miss your wild grace.
I walked away with trembling hands,
Your canvases still whisper lands
Of chaos blooming into art —
But now you’re safe, and I depart.

Final Chorus
Muse in the ward, you set me free,
In your chaos I could finally see
That beauty comes from breaking chains,
From fevered nights and untamed brains.
I leave the ward, you stay behind —
We lost the muse we used to find.
Your paint still dries, my heart still yearns
For windswept storms that never turn.

Outro
Now every brush I lift recalls
The wild you found in padded halls —
And though you’re calm, and though you’re fine,
I mourn the muse I called divine.