?Breathe the light and see the air. Look at me? the mirror said. ?Stop pulling your head underground, Instead of having it flying on clouds? I said: ?
A nail in the flesh To suffocate all the mess. A flower born dead, But its color?s still pink, my friend. A rotten apple falls off the tree. Though
Violence makes ultra-violence. Hysteria made a shame in our bed. Violence makes ultra-violence. It?s a shame in our bed. ?And don?t look up? he said
Would it sound stupid if I say That everything, and I say everything, has turned into grey? But what else should I say? What there?s out, I don?t like
My words are not clear, I know, at all But language becomes foolish when all you do is crawl. Fear is coming And it would blind us all. My brain feeds
A nail in the flesh To suffocate all the mess. A flower born dead, But its color?s still pink, my friend. A rotten apple falls off the tree. Though it
Violence makes ultra-violence. Hysteria made a shame in our bed. Violence makes ultra-violence. It?s a shame in our bed. ?And don?t look up? he said, ??
