Amidst gray garlic skies
Swells a deafening despair
It laments the death of yesterday
And in its ineffable grief
Appears as a drop, yes a drop
It is green and resembles
A soft wind blown thus among clouds
By the ordinance of chance
Across black boulevards
And here the legendary
Taste of ashes fills the air
Where a single breath disperses
Galactic calculations through green glaciated lips
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
Amidst gray garlic skies
Swells a deafening despair
It laments the death of yesterday
And in its ineffable grief
Appears as a drop, yes a drop
It is green and resembles
A soft wind blown thus among clouds
By the ordinance of chance
Across black boulevards
And here the legendary
Taste of ashes fills the air
Where a single breath disperses
Galactic calculations through green glaciated lips
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