When you think you know, that’s you losing it.
When you write this down, that’s you erasing it.
Moments pass empty like the wind.
Oscillations are left.
People fear base oscillation.
They fear the quiet of the world.
If it gets too quiet during the night, we might just slip away.
If you are too loud in the morning, you won’t know what to say.
So the prophet sits alone.
On a mountain top and is shown
A larger picture
Reflecting his own.
Walking towards the mountains are saints
Unified sacrifices are made.
The God’s blood is paid,
As the Devil digs the grave.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
When you think you know, that’s you losing it.
When you write this down, that’s you erasing it.
Moments pass empty like the wind.
Oscillations are left.
People fear base oscillation.
They fear the quiet of the world.
If it gets too quiet during the night, we might just slip away.
If you are too loud in the morning, you won’t know what to say.
So the prophet sits alone.
On a mountain top and is shown
A larger picture
Reflecting his own.
Walking towards the mountains are saints
Unified sacrifices are made.
The God’s blood is paid,
As the Devil digs the grave.
