Now every alphabet of your mis-branding is peeled away by the salt of time
Now every alphabet of your mis-branding is peeled away by the salt of time
We will forget the death that now stinks up the city centre, dark hallways into the doors of offices
I may say I tried the best I could to stifle an instinct But the quiet invitation of your transparent gown…
I believed, for once, that God wasn’t responsible for anything.
I sit with the inconsolable soul of the dark— The voices of pleasure in the deep woods