[Deacon] Dark
In my dreams he stands beside me, but I can't see his face, shrouded as it is. I can hear his breathing, smell ash from his hair. Enormous buildings, constructs of concrete and steel, loom over us, blotting out the meager sun. It's a gray dream of a gray world. We walk.
There is no one else here, just us. We don't talk, don't bother with words. Our silences are companionable. Sometimes we run as if something chases us. Sometimes we turn and face it.
The dream always ends the same way; he walks away and I still can't see his face.
There is no one else here, just us. We don't talk, don't bother with words. Our silences are companionable. Sometimes we run as if something chases us. Sometimes we turn and face it.
The dream always ends the same way; he walks away and I still can't see his face.