| It’s strange…
|
| It’s no news to you…
|
| No longer delay the truth, I’ve needed to push off for some time
|
| Promise to keep your mind with you and I’ll return your heart
|
| But now it’s time to find out about all with which I’m made
|
| My fragments were scattered across every last shore
|
| Within the efforts to create this now dissolving race
|
| Ages ago we would die to further the whole but we’ve since forgotten our place
|
| Patiently etching glass through scenes that make everyday
|
| Adrift triangular bliss where every side equates
|
| Creatures beneath have never counted a league
|
| Nor have they tracked the sun until it falls asleep
|
| The wind picks up and the water is getting rough, as I tread the angry earth’s
|
| working brain
|
| With each wave comes a chance of being erased
|
| What’s left of me is violently swept to land; |
| land that I had taken for granted
|
| My pieces were scattered across every last shore when I tried my hand in the
|
| game
|
| (May the waves help carry my sound, and send home love from men who won’t be
|
| found.)
|
| Ages ago I promised I’d return your heart, whole. |
| But it seems the plans have
|
| changed
|
| (I beg the waves recall when I said, «as long as you live, I’ll live through
|
| you.»)
|
| Accidents aren’t all the same
|
| There are some that make you glad they came |