Thursday, July 10, 2003
we softly stole the skie
beneath her own eyes
as we hear a song
chanting it as if it is our's
too late for us to return her
the next trip is forward to die
but before that, a ticket for pleasure
open eyes affront the gushing wind
does it matter now if we cry
does it matter now if we're lost
will it matter to us if they cant believe
with our lines of thinking that wanders
we cant root now on this road
pour all the pieces of dance along our road
to rip the way
may our weight won't kill us
blinded by the created myths
singing for the lost angels
and the on-line moon of darkest devouring
heralds a singing kettle
to keep us going thinking
walking to every corner with intricate steps
and echoing pain of the street
finding not the air of mortality
and no one can held us now
we cant see nothing but our supposed
mission on stratosphere swirl
we just must learn to find
taste the juice of our lipse
fill the midnight with our summed words
and ever after that with care, return now the skie
and let it rest July 02,2003
beneath her own eyes
as we hear a song
chanting it as if it is our's
too late for us to return her
the next trip is forward to die
but before that, a ticket for pleasure
open eyes affront the gushing wind
does it matter now if we cry
does it matter now if we're lost
will it matter to us if they cant believe
with our lines of thinking that wanders
we cant root now on this road
pour all the pieces of dance along our road
to rip the way
may our weight won't kill us
blinded by the created myths
singing for the lost angels
and the on-line moon of darkest devouring
heralds a singing kettle
to keep us going thinking
walking to every corner with intricate steps
and echoing pain of the street
finding not the air of mortality
and no one can held us now
we cant see nothing but our supposed
mission on stratosphere swirl
we just must learn to find
taste the juice of our lipse
fill the midnight with our summed words
and ever after that with care, return now the skie
and let it rest July 02,2003
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