| It"s blurring out of sight
|
| The faces flickering in the tinsel light on the esplanades
|
| Fluid and vanishing
|
| Dissolving, hiding things
|
| In your room, after the scene, when the faces shift
|
| Into someone else
|
| The arcade is echoing
|
| In a shattered self, the figure"s shimmering
|
| Alter all the static thoughts
|
| Into something less than what was sought
|
| The splendour of within
|
| Inner helplessness no more
|
| Empty habits cure the needs
|
| Solely to concede
|
| Never disagree
|
| Seek obscurity in lucidity
|
| My identity is dying,
|
| Someone said: «Can you believe this line?»
|
| And for all I know there"s a cure
|
| Faltering, reversing forward
|
| Sentiment"s never odd or even
|
| The minds are solid as liquid
|
| It"s reverberant and faint
|
| Vaguely luminous
|
| Everything has changed
|
| And nothing is the same |