by Arcassin Burnham


velvet eyes i look into,
silver tongue speaks lies,
but i see is a bunch of static,
this is the book of life,
why dont you read at it,
chill melodies have me high,
raptures coming to an all time natural,
but natural as you can get of course,
run like the wind,
on the saddle of a horse,
wind flowing through the soul,
as if there is not any originality,
to the art,
so when the silver tongue speaks,
the channel will not be set,
forget me not,
i won't forget.