I write with
wounded ink...
I admit, I change faces
And I do it all the time...
He took off his head,
like an old stench ridden...
If an accident occurs
who takes the blame...
One move to the right
The hands of the old clock ticked...
Moving through the times with ease,
Taking nothing more than a smile...
Last autumn,
you smiled and told me...
What happened to the degree you said you were...
What happened to "the last time" you were going to...
You know,
in your eyes...
what do i feel I'm longing?
What is it that i think i need...
when you moved too fast for me to see,
i thought you were constant...
Within a dark cave,
buried deep in my soul...