And it seems like an endless skyway turned into black. Like black and grey. Like black and blue. And it is like a drop running down from the top. As if it were a pencil drawing an edge... a limit. A very thin separation. A nowhere place. or at least somewhere you do not know where you are. Just like between umbra and penumbra. Flying somehow from star to star... from light to light.
Maybe it's a conscience need. Maybe a colourful wall. A shiny mirror just in front of us... of me.-
there are so many songs filling my mind of dreams and reminiscences. Songs that turns on and off the machine. that opens a gate beyond myself... nevertheless they are always turning on and off themselves once and again, forever and ever.
Will that song stop someday...? today...? tomorrow...?
sometime...?
Maybe it's a conscience need. Maybe a colourful wall. A shiny mirror just in front of us... of me.-
there are so many songs filling my mind of dreams and reminiscences. Songs that turns on and off the machine. that opens a gate beyond myself... nevertheless they are always turning on and off themselves once and again, forever and ever.
Will that song stop someday...? today...? tomorrow...?
sometime...?
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