Texty:
End Sonnet

Courtesy of blank intuition. This lattice is torn repeatedly frame by frame. by you. And within withering syncopation in time (totality) escaped: me.

This is the right time This is the right place Living underneath a gray cloud When nothing ever changes I couldn't be any less proud The heart of this

We in our infancy, led down shining paths Shine, shine, shining paths, divine our disillusion Face our imperfection, I begin to wonder Onion peelings

one Monopolise the holy ground, all that we hold as sacred No harvest moon shall rise, no valley homestead seen And now the cities never end, and

All across the scenes the statues crumble We cherished the seconds, counted the days And people move with lines across their faces Embracing each other

Peace at the break of dawn, mist on the shore, Time is healing everything, time is standing still, A voice that is singing in my head, With the breeze

Across the sand under a crescent moon In celebration of our fears And rumors circulating in the street The candle burns, the world awaits We ask, is

When there's storm clouds higher than heaven And there's angels defeating themselves And you can't get past half past eleven Without feeding the sharks

We are not the sons of God We are not his chosen people now We have crossed the path he trod We will feel the pain of his beginning Shadow fingers rise