calling all cosmos
the media has poisoned the air it's borrowed
the frequencies are deafening and become waves of sorrow
no one to maintain the signals through the rain
or be the one who follows

calling all established breath to relinquish the skies before you forget, leaving a hole in the center of a sunset. eyes complete the sentence i'll soon regret, placing the moon in a hole a whisper away from where we first met.

a house of cards made of perfect hands, built in a way you can't understand. it could topple down with a master plan or be the symbol of the promise land. fifteen ways to bend the mind, i believe love is the most difficult to find. words rewind to see the future of passing time. and all of this from the sights left behind.

a man tells a joke he can't quite remember the punchline for, the setup still follows.