my claw feet
grip the generation
before and after the
revolutions.
sadness.
it passes into a kiss and
then it is the only thing that
matters.
Zephyrs fly
and overhead
the voices in the sky that
tug at my shirt
lost in the stupor
the dreaded torpor and
the mortal coil.
blessed are those that sleep
blessed are those who sleep.
smoke and ash in a heap,
smoldering and replete
with its stern and steel
facade that will make you cry
blessed are those who sleep,
blessed are those that sleep...
Please let me find out why...
are the answers in the sky?
Will I find it in the stars?
passive and pale,
dreaming of what may
one day be a real life
now hidden in sleep...
blessed are those that sleep..
(its a real life better than mystery)
Are the answers in the sky?
hidden in sleep,
hidden in
hidden in sleep.
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