Time, all the long red lines, that take Control, of all th smoke-like streams that flow into your Dreams, that big blue open sea, that cant be Crossed, that cant be climbed, just born Between, oh the two white lines, distant gods and faded Signs, of all those blinking lites, you had to pick the one tonight... Holes, dug by little moles, angry jealous Spies, got telephones for eyes, come to you as Friends, all those endless ends, that cant be Tied, oh they make me laugh, and always make me Cry, until they drop like flies, and sink like polished Stones, of all the stones i throw, How does that old song go? How does that old song go?..
Posted on: Thu, 04 Sep 2014 21:08:25 +0000