Sour is the mind that throws away passion for loneiness.
From the time temple a carnival for the heart that made you
tamed you into being
Waves of new connections
tall shadows and the writings that
fell and failed
Nostrils inlarged by the smell of the stale one
Mix and match
this and that
till you find the truth that
you are looking for
Words and pictures cannot tame what should have been
In the box nap
in the flame trap
in the lost gap
nothing matters
You will never find the Utopia in propagation or shadow
Its always the phatom that drives us insane
everything is opposite today
The daughter of dust makes it so.
Im tall-feel small
Im happy-crying inside.
Im alive-heart is dying
Mainstream graves make wonderful hand grenades
for the hippie and the wanna-be poets to smoke about and write away
We hate the endless schedules and the time princes but preach away and shine spotlights
on our fever shows aboard the train of "Look at me! I am having fun"
Are you son?
Wheres the picture of you after the fools left?
Who took that part of me with them?
The heart is always the first to feel the mental version of a strong poverty
I remember the parking lot and the guard that caught us
What a night
A night that shoul have never happened
The sand and its brother the moon
guide me help me to understand the puzzle
The puzzle that I cannot fix
The future made only in ways I do not want or care to know
I just wish to find a nice tomb to forever dream in
Peace
wisdom
darkness
Wish to be me again
or die in my sleep
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