Sewing the spiral depth The halogram projected Lapse time Turning Pixels to Pixie Dust Into diamond
The Dogon Gamble's away his sand In hopes of Sound the sun rays Of Saturn singing
Serpents tongue Circulates the circumference Of the circus Sung circles Sunken fertile land Herbs in hand The earth purges Again Again And again I am nervous Hit with nerfs Of the world Shooting Me down I laugh I dismay the smuck And smog Smuggled by singularity Stiffened by ambiguity Banging my head on the mirror Of the river I bleed red In blue Streams
Giant Futile, no Forever, yet Few, Find the feather I flew over mind and Let loose
My severed spine has broken down into bread and wine
I am still standing on two feet... I'm starting to put on the heat... I'm planning to fly high... Into the night sky... No one will reach me... I will look around and I will see... I will forget all the bad things... And I will fly on my own two wings... Up in the air, I can laugh into the wind... I will leave my sorrows behind... No heavy rock on my back... No more things which I lack... Some people won't notice that I'm not there... Some people might see that I'm not to be found anywhere... But I can't really care... Because I'm here...
I'll come to you, and you'll hate me. you would like to have it rough, but i can't understand all the tough years that are gone, weren't they enough? wasn't it enough to know who you are. was that time good to be cut by the shadows of some wrinkled paper like souls, who only wants to cut and take, well how can they accept others in.
do you walk, you know by now the road that leads you onward. on that road i stand still, I'm waiting.
"keep on going, without returning the silent sting of the destiny.", those words you said keep me waiting standing still in the middle of the road, because i will find love even in the unknown with my eyes shut.
Somewhere in a meadow Beneath the rows of fielded corn Between the sky, above a water way Where a million tiny ears are born And listening to the winds of voice To the cackle of crows driving away a hawk Living there, somewhere amongst a meadow seeded Are a thousand, growing, listening stalks All born to stand, but not to walk
It's no crime to stand. Not all are meant to walk.