Texty: Diary Of Dreams. Methusalem.

I plastered all these walls with color

I drank your tears watered with wine

Contented with this taste of anger

Regarding this was mine



I tested all in vague proportions

I drank your tears like they were mine

I dared to speak of new horizons

and blinded both your eyes with mine



Can you feel it coming?

Can you feel it go?

Anti Methusalem Syndrome



Misled by an angel

I thought I saw the sun bleed

Up my throat they crawl

To turn in little rumours



Infinite temptation

Fateful, formless, rare

Distant condulation

I know whose words they are



How dare you speak, or even move

Dimorphicly disabled gestures

Prophylactic tendencies

as bodies need their prostitution



My tongue was bent in all directions

Circling motion in slight confusion

E-dead spies return in failure

prayer after prayer (just) in case it helps



It's in our kind

It's on my mind

It's pure and holy

It's what I've done...done to you



Can you see him running?

Can you see his home?

Anti Methusalem Syndrome