Monday, October 04, 2010

brain

Roads of ice
Cover sand
And the dry atmosphere
It's stinks of burnt destruction

It's covered with miles of panic
A shockwave of instincts
The light post will.host check points
This city
Concrete idol
Reality war games

Arise from downpours
And shine with glory
We must be solid like a tower
Because we are the back bone of this story

We sit like we are fused
Back, once when we felt the sun
Clouds were clean and visible
We can't tell pollution from night sky

Day or night
Even in plain sight
I can't see what's ahead


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