It makes you think doesn't it?
Who whistled Christmas lights in their weave?
How have I tasted the drops of sunshine
As though those shadowless snow covered leaves
I once saw in Autumn. Dark is the time
Between those bodies, dancing about splots
Of celestial paint drops of stardust,
So wet with supernovas' heat. A shroud
Kissing the tips of trees. Planet's of rust,
Dazed as they wander and scatter through lint,
Faded through grey from daylight to black smoke.
A raisin. A raven. A soot nothing.
I lay there and fell through a gliding cloak.
The obsidian oblivion bares
In my opinion, blue, blonde hair.
Maybe it's less of a thought
Than a song idea
For a guitar
Without any strings
Or something whispering

I will look out on those mountain crowns of my ancestors.
As I feel the wind's fingertips on my face
And as it leaves, with it's embrace,
I will go with it and I will fade.