Queen at the end of town
There's no time for us.
There's no place for us.
With the most basic of skills, each foot comes down to the earth, taking on triple the force massxgravity calculates out. Bones bend, tendons stretch-contract and another day is ripping through the sky. Roars filled those sapphire oceans, but no more, no more.
People do you hear me? Just give me the sign.
It ain't much I'm asking, if you want the truth.
Here's to the future for the dreams of youth.
There's tickling under my skin. A pricking of my thumb. Something wicked has come and gone. I turn into the parking lot and park somewhere among the beaten and battered car frames. Someone's hand touched these, brought them out of the earth, trampled, burnt, and crushed. I love the smell and sight. I run my hands along the gritty grease and sandpaper rust and breath in deep into my lungs the scent of technology gone to seed. Corruption to corrosion. Combustion to oxidation. ("Unto thee we all return", he whispered in my ear one night. I feigned sleep.) No chrome and silver saddled beasts of convenience these. Returning to where they came from, I eat their memories as they seep out red and oily.
Didn't mean to make you cry-
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow-
Carry on,carry on, nothing really matters-
I once saw leaving you there. Alone and small, you would be found and I killed. Evil and horror, I bit my lip at the darkness in my heart. Today, I watched the Indians all die and their spirit blew away in the wind and their hearts bled into the land. I watch their ghosts haunt the streets, never knowing why, why, why.
Empty spaces - what are we living for?
Abandoned places - I guess we know the score..
On and on!
At night, there is comfort in concrete. I can smell the rubber of a million tires and hear the wind during rush hour. Escher would be in love, no ups, backs, or fronts. On is off, merging into imagination. How would I know that my own voice would abandon me? My eye isn't good for perspective, so only if the thoughts live on, and I focus on Orion. Great Hunter, your light seems eternal. Wrap a dead light around this small traveler.
Mother, I am coming back to you. The wind, the sun, the earth and ocean each take their part and soon even the wishes fade.
There's no place for us.
With the most basic of skills, each foot comes down to the earth, taking on triple the force massxgravity calculates out. Bones bend, tendons stretch-contract and another day is ripping through the sky. Roars filled those sapphire oceans, but no more, no more.
People do you hear me? Just give me the sign.
It ain't much I'm asking, if you want the truth.
Here's to the future for the dreams of youth.
There's tickling under my skin. A pricking of my thumb. Something wicked has come and gone. I turn into the parking lot and park somewhere among the beaten and battered car frames. Someone's hand touched these, brought them out of the earth, trampled, burnt, and crushed. I love the smell and sight. I run my hands along the gritty grease and sandpaper rust and breath in deep into my lungs the scent of technology gone to seed. Corruption to corrosion. Combustion to oxidation. ("Unto thee we all return", he whispered in my ear one night. I feigned sleep.) No chrome and silver saddled beasts of convenience these. Returning to where they came from, I eat their memories as they seep out red and oily.
Didn't mean to make you cry-
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow-
Carry on,carry on, nothing really matters-
I once saw leaving you there. Alone and small, you would be found and I killed. Evil and horror, I bit my lip at the darkness in my heart. Today, I watched the Indians all die and their spirit blew away in the wind and their hearts bled into the land. I watch their ghosts haunt the streets, never knowing why, why, why.
Empty spaces - what are we living for?
Abandoned places - I guess we know the score..
On and on!
At night, there is comfort in concrete. I can smell the rubber of a million tires and hear the wind during rush hour. Escher would be in love, no ups, backs, or fronts. On is off, merging into imagination. How would I know that my own voice would abandon me? My eye isn't good for perspective, so only if the thoughts live on, and I focus on Orion. Great Hunter, your light seems eternal. Wrap a dead light around this small traveler.
Mother, I am coming back to you. The wind, the sun, the earth and ocean each take their part and soon even the wishes fade.