RequiemIt has been some hours
I have bit the blade
and you should see the wound i've made
my eyes were faucets for a while
i thought i could sustain a smile
believed my energy would last
but i have used it all too fast
she's far away, and I suspect,
her eyes grew moist, if for a sec,
my heart beats on - a bloody mess,
yet my life flows with easiness,
it's been some hours and i recall,
when i was young, i built a wall
*That Thing* episode 96He should have thought about it.
Lots of others were thinking about it.
His friends thought about it, as well as his enemies, and even people he didn't know or couldn't name thought about it.
Yes, nearly everybody was thinking about it one time or another---except him of course.
He didn't know why they thought about it, because he didn't think of it himself.
He didn't even know what it was.
the LibertineI'll tell you true,
I had a dream,
and I did drink the Libertine,
offered to me by one so fair,
with green-isle eyes and amber hair,
I was dreaming of a bar,
I remember it well,
and the Libertine worked its spell,
Its taste was cool, her lips were wet,
and I have tasted all of it,
Time has passed, the dream lives on,
its cool taste is almost gone
Perhaps I'll be in the amber one's dreams,
and I shall drink of Libertine
Keys in ancient rituals and legends...
The Moon Goddess walks through the forest
Civilization is the jungle
Concrete denies life
I don't know
perhaps I should seek
The Rowan-tree (wood)
Follow the dewy mists into Portents
and listen to the thunderings of my dreams...
Tears for Fears (closing part)Tears for Fears, (closing part)
There's a silence within the space of this time
not waiting, not wanting, just standing sublime
a reflection of tired eyes, softened and wet
looking at empty dreams, watching and yet
from memories arising that cloud up my soul
and stir my emotions for i've nowhere to go
i've seen a lot with these circle dark eyes
been loved and been left I am not surprised
two hands scarred and toughened
proud wounds like the heart
the hands can make fists, but the self falls apart
not wanting to anger, not wanting to rage,
endlessly crucified: society's cage
the mirror's reflection bearing no smile,
shrouded in darkness like some ancient isle
stretching out moments of time and of space
feeling hot tears disfigure the face
a sonata in solitude like some lonely bar
calling in vagrants who also bear scars
humming some rhythm of melancholy thought
for dreams yet undreamt and wars yet unfought
the light fades out slowly from the windowpane's eyes
and the sun sinks down lowly