Inside display of broken wings
So smooth
Porcelain face cracks
Never found our way out again
Cause to trace this
We’re surrounded
JUST DROP THE GUN!
The fields have been
Rewrite the book
Chapter three will be empty
Pure white and hidden
So this is my last transmission
The words that will
We flail on to morning stars
We'll offer all of ourselves
Bricks show through white textured walls
Screaming their story with such
Walls crash down around us
Standing atop the ocean.
These
'Streetlights, Empty Wells' - Anatomy Of A Ghost
Bridges tremble behind