|
I’m not exactly sure of what I mean
Or who I am, or what.
I could paint you what I dream,
Though of its resonance
I am not sure...
|
|
In the heart of the valley,Where hill-battles yield,The trees stand apartIn awe of a field.In whole, it is small,Not colorful, no.It boasts not a pond..
|
|
A determined armada, those stalwart, constant ships;No boastful, hungry men to bother,No boys to sleep in shifts.The destination never is the goal-But..
|
|
The scathing songs of boastful locustsPierce my weary ears todayFrom all directions, they surround meAnd in their brassy voices say:"Greetings from wi..
|
|
There is a dog far away in the darkness I can hearHowling to the mountains to his freedom I'm endeared.For if I had half as much I'd cry twice as loud..
|
|
leaving
|
|
made are always only dreams
|
|
eh, lately
|
|
Wind,Take the breath from my lungs, it's corrupted.cloudsTake the knife from my backMy hands are tied with rope and laughterAnd the ground neath my fe..
|
|
blahhhh
|
|
|