The sky is caught
behind the clouds...
I don't want to speak in circles anymore,
and lose visitors in my colourless corridors...
Nightmares
reoccurring...
Whoever made that
"Sticks and stones" parable...
There's so much of the sea that we haven't...
So much, that contains so many different lifeforms...
She lights another cigarette
As the smoke fades...
It was an early morning of September 11,
A day i took a deep thought of hell and heaven...
In this dark room I sit
contemplating the darkness of my shadow...
Dreams are overrated,
Always crashing down...
A cold shiver shakes me to my core
Tries to knock on my hearts door...
Like honest confessions from a compulsive liar
I set fires while dancing in the rain...
Rowdy glides through
the same dog-paths...