Are we but shades Cathartically shed on A camera obscura of sorts Capsized, washed out, Indistinct and begrimed Here we must grovel With dignity under a Still peephole. Are we mere statues Clustered in our glasshouses - a box with no confession - To kneel under a bronze law?
But the bronze law melts down here As the smoking gun inhales. There's only ourselves And the deaf walls moving in on us;
Only ourselves and our questions snapped at Only ourselves, sécreted once they're secréted.
We are our own time-bomb flowers As we're cluttering A hothouse in a blind spot, A mass grave That's manured with scandal In no sun.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
