clock tick I hear your heart beat, more rapid then your sharp and biting tongue
shouldering your way through the silence, smashing the bodies up against the wall
make them break their brittle necks and wound their flesh, as you turn by your face and lick their blood from their chests
drunken by the sea of words, we spoken people are and make our sea be stirred by your dancing odour and our words be snatched out of our shouting gaps, we have gone to far
we say to much, still we know words can not say it all, we put our belief upon thy words as if they where our soldiers to march in our war of worlds
we float only upon thy sea of communication yet we forget what is our boat and what are our oars
we believe our chatter will be our timber, yet it will not: it will turn into soul holes
No comments:
Post a Comment