terça-feira, maio 13, 2008


here from below
the clouds are shadows
not the golden mountains
i used to fly through
here from below
the sky's a painting
in a child's room
with the future waiting
but not for me

i look up at the birds
flying overhead my sentinel's true
but the signals dead
it's been 500 days of hope and sorrow
500 nights with no tomorrow
and the poetry and the best of me
and the heart and the spirit
and the sex of me
all fell into the azure sea
in the tailspin
with the last of me
and my wings and my song
all that i knew is dead and gone
i'm weak and tired
but my will is strong
and my hope lives on
my hope lives on