July
Sunday 9 December 2007 photo 2/15
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Nothing is what it seems Not even in our purest dreams Faking perfect control Making a wonderful patrol Wanting to be wild and free But finding the answers to never be Saluting to the utmost promise made Of one all memories may fade Reaching down to lend a hand Fearing the movement of the sand Time floats by Words starts to fly Numbing within and throughout All left to do is shout Rushing past an open door Slamming it shut with a roar Looking after a clue Finding it all to be true Savaging an open mind Tainting it to be blind Holding onto the indifference nightly Kneeling upon fate brightly Not believing means all Nothing can uphold the fall Rightfully beyond reasons Scratching onto the final seasons Dreading what may have been Searching but claim not to have seen Everyone is allowed to have dreams That’s why nothing is what it seems
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