so the bends bring us back again
|
except for now we stand miles apart
|
both of us without just what we need
|
both turning to measures
|
that seem desperate
|
so freedom feels like a box
|
made of insurrected thoughts
|
so its back to the repetition that
|
once held me in its jaws
|
you seem to keep your wings tied on
|
mine have fallen far from the core
|
and it seems you are of the skies
|
and i dive deeper below
|
the surface flourescent
|
between your world and mine
|
i wish on every single
|
weightless hope
|
on every buoyant ambition that floats
|
over my head to high to pull me up
|
hanging around on your ledge
|
has left me airsick and wishful
|
to be back in my aqueous oblivion
|
where everything and you and me
|
are correlated
|
|
-----------------
|
Surfacing
|
| Estrela |
