ignite in me a simple flame,
to burn away those documents of memories;
I don't want my...
visions to come clean, shadows depart, or
crayons to colour the next white canvas.
can't you burn the sky with your flame?
jest of the night, little by little, fading dream.
the burning must occur.
I want my,
a charred cloth, a choking smell for a while,
the remnants burn in a quiet flame.
water, from somewhere, extinguish.
where it feels the most, choking, burning with desire gone astray
it must burn, and so the water must fall
I don't know what I want,
the pause to breath in air,
humid and smoky, blurring visions once clear.
weight of the handle, patience, terrible patience.
looming destinies, of return and veritable wrenching pains
I want,
the distant sun to be you,
shining always but far away from me.
my voice, gone silent, a wall to my inners
the masonry of restoration.destruction.production.reaction.
every count of the beat, a retrospective of post-events
I want,
the sky to burn, a bright orange, to devastate the innoncence of the moment,
so that it may burn away, disappear and flash into distant memory.
forgot to remember.
but resist all temptations, a kill-joy fire, perish,
all the memories as they come back,
that I don't want.
but to burn, is only to change something to another state...
sweet sounds, to hear once again, a lullaby of insomnia.
if i hold still, will i sleep and dream again?
no.
burn, no. not desire.
burn, yes, what must burn.
you are the sun
do what you must,
when the magnifying glass points.
and burn me, deep, right where it hurts most.
and in an instant
combustion.
and I leave, a mark, that will eventually, be cleared.
ashes, once living, the wind blows,
they spread,
and so the sky, once again, gets a little tainted,
but soon, ashes settle,
and forgotten, in time to come,
in time to come.
to come to a closure.
for once, let it be.
t.e.a.r.s. evaporate.
to fly home, high up above...and below, in another season
to burn away those documents of memories;
I don't want my...
visions to come clean, shadows depart, or
crayons to colour the next white canvas.
can't you burn the sky with your flame?
jest of the night, little by little, fading dream.
the burning must occur.
I want my,
a charred cloth, a choking smell for a while,
the remnants burn in a quiet flame.
water, from somewhere, extinguish.
where it feels the most, choking, burning with desire gone astray
it must burn, and so the water must fall
I don't know what I want,
the pause to breath in air,
humid and smoky, blurring visions once clear.
weight of the handle, patience, terrible patience.
looming destinies, of return and veritable wrenching pains
I want,
the distant sun to be you,
shining always but far away from me.
my voice, gone silent, a wall to my inners
the masonry of restoration.destruction.production.reaction.
every count of the beat, a retrospective of post-events
I want,
the sky to burn, a bright orange, to devastate the innoncence of the moment,
so that it may burn away, disappear and flash into distant memory.
forgot to remember.
but resist all temptations, a kill-joy fire, perish,
all the memories as they come back,
that I don't want.
but to burn, is only to change something to another state...
sweet sounds, to hear once again, a lullaby of insomnia.
if i hold still, will i sleep and dream again?
no.
burn, no. not desire.
burn, yes, what must burn.
you are the sun
do what you must,
when the magnifying glass points.
and burn me, deep, right where it hurts most.
and in an instant
combustion.
and I leave, a mark, that will eventually, be cleared.
ashes, once living, the wind blows,
they spread,
and so the sky, once again, gets a little tainted,
but soon, ashes settle,
and forgotten, in time to come,
in time to come.
to come to a closure.
for once, let it be.
t.e.a.r.s. evaporate.
to fly home, high up above...and below, in another season
burn, sun.
but if you want,
collect me in an urn,
called photo.
Water-fai has just some amazing instrumental beats.
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