| Tie a balloon onto the fingertips
|
| Weights to willing ankles
|
| Soft as a lullaby or Pillows held over sleeping faces
|
| Or make it better with a kiss…
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| And betrayal into bliss…
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| Faceless one
|
| I am a line drawn through these
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| Arabesques with tender precision
|
| Pick at the blandest
|
| Most indifferent thread and I’ll unravel…
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| Out into nameless colours
|
| Till i am just another
|
| Fading silver wind
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| Hold on, hold on O-Life is a place we arrived at upside down
|
| Ground to a powder I am Measured out just one part per million
|
| Now every page I turn is Pressure against a trigger finger
|
| How can a soul end up so thin?
|
| Is it there when the beginning is the end
|
| Hold on, hold on O-Life is a place we arrived at upside down
|
| I am not a map of mercy
|
| To fold away everythings alright
|
| Or a plot to build the shelter
|
| For crandling a dying firelight
|
| I’m the wind wisp from you to me
|
| I’m driest earth this is out of reach
|
| Show me a map of mercy
|
| Mark where the shade is waiting
|
| Here with my shoulders shaking
|
| I already know…
|
| Hold on, hold on O-Life is a place we arrived at upside down |