About Me: In these smooth yet callused hands / I rub the dreams made of sands / The finer grains they run right through / And leave the ones of darker hue / Diamonds I have none for thee / For garnet black best fits me / Which lasts longer you may ask / In due time all things must past / Do they matter, these rings of gold / Can they protect you from the cold / I cup these stones against my chest / Open wounds a scarlet mess /