These are the places that i can't feel
My skin is crawling it starts to peel
Turning and twisting it comes off me
I do not know what i came to be
It feel like a dream....
Dots on the Pictures start pouring out
Faces and contours just clash in bout
I can not hear my foul cries
Blinded by gruesome but paltry crimes
Light coming more dim....
Waiting for answers i choose to stay
There is no wind but i start to sway
Letters are flying around and around
I feel the fade of a dying sound
I am ready to fall.
These are the places where i can't be
Streets and the Plaza of Sainthood of Thee
I am not here, you won't even feel
Wounds won't close, soul would not heal
Release sacred fowl...
These are the places
© Copyright: Глеб Тихий, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111101700956
Свидетельство о публикации №111101700956
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