Sunday 30 November 2008 photo 3/3
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multicolored stars painted upon a papier-maché sky
cotton clouds flying across,
swirling around black brids tied onto strings
shattered pieces of a mountain becomes a small track for the tin soldiers to walk upon
life here
underneath the papier-maché sky
upon grass made out of clay
life here
where the rain is nothing but tears
where the sunset is your own eyes closing
where the heavy thunder is the heart that beats within
this life
this maddness of which you come from
is nothing but a fraud
a deceit darker than the inside of your closed fist
strike those who once fooled you into this state of being
you've lost your soul into your disease
you've lost your mind
but yet,
all that you're able to see
is that baby blue papier-maché sky
therese.
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är de så bilen blev eller har du gjort om ? :)
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