Monday 19 November 2007

Temporary



And I got dirty feet,
From all the miles that I have walked.
Not far from the distance between,
But still, back to the start.

This is meant to fall from grace,
An end to our demise.
Just like your breath, not on my face,
When I stare into your eyes.

So give me reasons and reasons again,
But never say a word.
And like the darkness, fade away into the sun,
Or descend into my sick, sad, little world.

Maybe you’re the only one with a choice,
And I am lost and free.
Devoid of a face, of a voice,
With something trapped inside of me.

The more I tell,
The more I find.
Your taste on my tongue,
And the things we’ve left behind.

So foretell me all the petty events,
The premonitions your songs couldn’t prevent.
Twisted tongues and the words you spent,
One day, I won’t be permanent.

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