I’m not sorry to say, I intend no change. I’m sorry if it was always the same, rounding bicycles every day, we skip down the streets as the world turns away. It wasn’t always this way, I have a few memories of my heyday. But as not to insinuate my lack of perception somehow eluded misconceptions, I was merely panhandling the sediment for a glimmer.
It made me shiver to see a reflective shimmer. It’s hard to say today having forgotten previous days, never have I run so far away, you have to catch a falling star if you really believe it to be so bizarre. Never come this far, spending life wandering the borders, satellite people inhabit these lands, barbarians left to plunder, it's no wonder things are torn asunder.
But when you wake up, under perfect skies, no one will see them waiting there, watching what is happening. Ease off to a slow rush that will cushion the crush as the impacts of lust develop into more than a simple crush. Under star sky, I’m here watching what is happening, preparing the symbiotic tea so they can sit and drink with me.
As you wake up, you’ll find your mask uncovered and strewn in the dust as I rush to the coast. Believe that I won’t boast of the former host, I’ve no words to speak should I impose such a toast. Something is different as I sift through the breakwater, it’s somehow stained a marker of time deep inside my mind that I take no time to find.
I travel this sandy creek on search for the mystic sheet worn by the Sharman as he summons to the star lit sky by the rivers bend, commanding the starman to remember my name, great skies will take all my pain as it pours down with rain, granting me a fresh disguise for love filling me with pride, this time the will know who I am. It’s not insane to sift through for a glimmer of hope for you.
©thegizz211
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