Sweet & Sour Bud's

[Verse 1]



The sweet bud grows on sunny slopes,
With honey laughter and generous hopes.
It opens hearts and eases minds,
Like spring arriving after frosty times.
Its scent is light, a citrus breeze,
That floats through memories with ease.
It teaches patience, gentleness, and trust,
And turns old bitterness to dust.



[Verse 2]



But deep beneath the shaded ground,
Where stony soil and silence sound,
Another kind of knowing grows—
A bitter bud that few men chose.
Its taste is sharp, its lessons deep,
It guards the secrets sorrows keep.
It does not comfort or console,
But strips illusion from the soul.



[Chorus]



Oh, sweet and sour buds of life—
Both born from struggle, both from strife.
One teaches laughter, one teaches sight,
Together they make the darkness bright.
You cannot have the dawn’s soft hue
Without the midnight’s honest blue.
Both flowers on the same vine twine—
The healing sap, the sacred wine.



[Verse 3]



I’ve plucked them both in different years,
Harvested hope, and swallowed tears.
The sweet one promised peace to come,
The sour one made my fingers numb.
Yet in my palm, they start to blend—
A stranger, wiser, kinder friend.
For sweetness without shadow’s sting
Is just a fragile, flightless thing.



[Bridge]



So now I walk my garden rows
And welcome all the garden grows.
I bless the thorn that guards the rose,
The ache that makes the comfort close.
I mix them in a single cup,
And slowly, slowly, drink them up.
Not to escape, but to behold—
The human story, brave and old.



[Verse 4]



The world will offer simple cures,
And markets sell what cheaply lures.
But deep inside, the truth remains:
All growth is born from honest pains.
The bud that’s kissed by gentle sun
And one that’s carved by storms as one—
Are notes within the same slow song,
To which all living things belong.



[Chorus]



Oh, sweet and sour buds of life—
Both born from struggle, both from strife.
One teaches laughter, one teaches sight,
Together they make the darkness bright.
You cannot have the dawn’s soft hue
Without the midnight’s honest blue.
Both flowers on the same vine twine—
The healing sap, the sacred wine.



[outro]



So let them grow… let them be…
The dark and light inside of me.
I’ll tend them both with equal hand,
Upon this unforgiving land.
For in their strange, combined perfume,
I meet my shadow and my bloom.
And in their shared and fragile breath,
I taste life… I taste life…
I taste life beyond death.