The days flows on
over a wild solitude
And wraps the world
in a nameless way
Of silly pride
Bursting,
from an old sky
at the wheel
of the half moon
With its fifth hand
inside me
In contemplation
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
The days flows on
over a wild solitude
And wraps the world
in a nameless way
Of silly pride
Bursting,
from an old sky
at the wheel
of the half moon
With its fifth hand
inside me
In contemplation