Now the music goes on, turning wailing tunes
sailing through the sun, intoxicating fumes
burning through the core, the heart
the mind, poisoned blades silver lined
wish the boat would stop, for just a second
finding rest in halls of time, where sand
grinds stone and carves the rivers end, long dried-up
former dreams of waterfalls, sleep beneath the arching window
curtains closed, to shut the silence within high walls and
welded doors, dust covered floors, footprints trace the steps
back to where we started walking, towards the past of sorrow,
to find a friend in a new tomorrow, far beyond the gray brush strokes
the blackened sun and the tender touch that chokes
- when thoughts wander -
Auteur: milamber | ||
Gecontroleerd door: fox_bert | ||
Gepubliceerd op: 05 juni 2005 | ||
Thema's: |