Everyday
is only another day...

The smell of incense burns
my nostrils like the sun\'s fire...

Black bone trees shiver
emptiness blows on the wind...

A nuance of silent grackles
an august phantasmagoria...

In the sanctuary of night
the world is a little closer...

He is haunted,
they whisper behind my back...

Martyrs of existentialism
seeking our own lost causes...

Where does the March wind go
when it runs out of breath...

Shaped by outside forces
but ruled by those within...

When I was younger
I thought I could fly...

Trace your graceful neck
creamy swell of your breast...

Birds collide with sunlight
over desert oceans...