ten days worked alone the texts go undressed
often too much
my lifeline drags a trail in the sand to the edge
of giving
the ambience breaks down many Fridays
waiting listening for
Yes on the radio so,
I sit among the Roundabout, Close to the Edge,
awaiting the Delirium, to catch me
by the gate
the one the song sang about
me the lone lover of prog left.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
ten days worked alone the texts go undressed
often too much
my lifeline drags a trail in the sand to the edge
of giving
the ambience breaks down many Fridays
waiting listening for
Yes on the radio so,
I sit among the Roundabout, Close to the Edge,
awaiting the Delirium, to catch me
by the gate
the one the song sang about
me the lone lover of prog left.
