The saga is dead. All the men for themselves.
This is what’s left when faith is dead.
Walking in white, quietly in the dark.
The spades encloses the heart.
Stooped, under goddamn degradation.
Commander of the faith, the saga is dead.
The party from death to life. I’m still down, pick up a few other.
Though, I really am vowed. Steppingstone to be simply.
Listening to trip-hop, what’s up?
Tag:
Exile
I thought I felt your breath against mine
The whoosh of late night taxi drivers, caffeinated
Automatic doors snap at your heels.
Exile is a lonely place, thoughts are smashed into -pink floyd’s prism, and you said, you thought it was a prison.
Utopia, the sky is always blue, a feeling of –
glorious chiaroscuro, I was blurry and I was opaque.
– I wanted to send you- dearest- I’m sure- soaking- meantime.
Your cheshire cat smile, and the hill of summer gaze-
Let there be no need to remember
no need to forget.