A coarse exhalation of lungs that pray for pity
|
My two fingers punching the keys diligently
|
Trembling ground
|
Pushes my glass off the table
|
Spilling the blood of the son of your idol
|
|
If it were not for this
|
Extensive book collection
|
I would know not what I’ve found
|
This world would still be flat
|
Mary would be a virgin
|
And I would still be sleeping sound
|
|
If every word is a dead symbol
|
Empowered by the carriers expression
|
I’ll bury my instrument citing this incident
|
I’m a flickering bulb that keeps blaming the filament
|
The most honest telling of this boyish fable
|
Is that on level ground I’m never feeling stable
|
But I’ve got to try
|
To outlast this candle
|
Or trust department to fight the inferno
|
|
If it were not for this
|
Extensive book collection
|
I would know not what I’ve found
|
This world would still be flat
|
Mary would be a virgin
|
And I would still be sleeping sound
|
|
It’s an endless
|
Quest to maintain
|
When no one is ever right
|
And out on the fertile plains
|
We bathe in fractured rays of sunlight.
|
|
|
If it were not for this
|
Extensive book collection
|
I would know not what I’ve found
|
This world would still be flat
|
Mary would be a virgin
|
And I would still be sleeping sound
|
|
-----------------
|
A Goat In Sheeps Rosary
|
| From Autumn To Ashes |
