Jul 2014
Draped in wings like curtains,
We fall like feathers hard as stone.
The pure wastes itself, tainted,
And youth will pay the children's toll.
We turn our pages endlessly,
The pages turn us old.
We fall like feathers hard as stone.
The pure wastes itself, tainted,
And youth will pay the children's toll.
We turn our pages endlessly,
The pages turn us old.
