There’s nothing here in this house
The living room breathing out in a daze
In the night, there’s a lamp post, over foggy ghosts
But you can’t complain
The empty space, it gives you a way
To draw out the sign, the figure 8’s and complex entries
The misty mountain divides
And cluttered ocean tides
The burning bridges of ancient language
That shapes your purview
Spinning out of the way
-folded up-
Crumbled notecards and scribbled faultlines
now decayed and left you
Another part-time breakthrough
The misty mountain divides
And cluttered ocean tides
The crumbled crosses and ancient language
That paints your worldview
Your body finally decays
Cacophony of holy bells
As you fade away
“I followed you every day,
Trying to piece together
this forgotten instinct.”
Back in time to display
a basic apathy to the
words that you can’t seem to say
“Nothing stays the same.”
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