If you aint what you seem Then I'll write my own dream Yes I

Write my own dream Well if you would

Well I tell you

Now and again my people

That this is how It all goes

In the end.

nails began to fall from the sky

mountains loomed red hanging over this town like the brink of death i cannot see you standing there, how dense the fog has grown (veiled from the eye)

yet i can feel u (out there)

(oh these)

projections of dreams in reverse

my death as the begging

and the rest is (only) waiting

through a cloud i touch ur closed eyes

then i see through those eyes

counting rings of smoke - enchanted by the electric haze of empty space. potential

did i leave two of my better eyes in the place that i end and you begin?

i did not attend my birth

something told me you were there

in the shade

beneath the glass

behind the eyes

through the heticombs

in the space between the in-between

u lay

seducing me blind, basking under an eternity.

yet somehow i forget

to forget

to forget

so all I ask of you

Is that you

wipe my mind to a blank slate

white wash the walls of the cathedrals

set fire to those who have grown attached

let those detached float into the jaws of space

tear a window in time where cruel paradoxes don't knit the fabric of this waking dream send me there with a handful of dirt on my knees

im not sorry

i have never been so certain

i have never been...

A ritual of decay, i fuck the earth planetary exile, hanging limp in closed terrain

the abode of the blessed dead the abode of the blessed dead