post\stone v2.1a

sunnudagur, mars 13, 2005 twenty marble flies

three fat crows flew over jack the butter,
they were bored and stinking.
nobody asked where they were from
because everybody knew they had no home.

though you're my

lone, lone child
nobody loves you.
run, run child
nobody loves you.

underneath those
sacrificial underthreads
your frightening life sucks.
scissors floating under our blue skies of death
show me your flag
shame with arguments.

know that
someday your flag,
someday your flag will be dead.
and it won't be white
no, it won't be white.

turn the rain.
turn the rain.
turn the rain.
turn the rain.
turn it to me.
bring me the gate
and when it's over, through your eyes i'll escape
through your eyes i'll escape.

___________e viva aos coisos abstrakktos do zero.

rafael at 10:27 e.h.

da memória.