I held the blood of
A noble ghost, the source
To works of ******* princes
And hotly discourse.
Your eyes, too old
Like glass, broken.
Cutting across thoughts,
Floating away, unspoken.
We walked down the tracks,
And we smoked our cigars.
Our rational burning,
On stage for the stars.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
I held the blood of
A noble ghost, the source
To works of ******* princes
And hotly discourse.
Your eyes, too old
Like glass, broken.
Cutting across thoughts,
Floating away, unspoken.
We walked down the tracks,
And we smoked our cigars.
Our rational burning,
On stage for the stars.
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