a path through these days
=a path through these days=
The curse of a dead bird on the footstep.
Stop to stoop over the dead-life.
Horizon full of death is exploding,
See the gust of unfaith it blasts.
The corner of cruel eyes slashing through
The red sky, the breaking of soul…
The path I take to reach the calm sunset
Through the streets of dawn, noon and dusk,
The path is bleached in colorless blood of
Deadly games man plays. The sphere of gone souls
Watches as I move to a rather
Natural end, untouched by them, slowly…