plazma
Bluelighter
To what end are we walking?
Writing our stories
Without heed to consequence
Scrawling our lives
Staining our paper with ink and tears
And still more scribbled out mistakes
While our cagewheel turns
Again and again and once more
On a lazy walk through eternity
Yet our eyes still lift
To the lost memories of a horizon
Somewhere distant
Tugging at our atrophied heartstrings
Turning our compass needles
Ever towards
That feeling we called home
I'm not sure about this, I don't know whether it needs more polishing or whether it reads okay as is. Anyway.
-plaz out-
Writing our stories
Without heed to consequence
Scrawling our lives
Staining our paper with ink and tears
And still more scribbled out mistakes
While our cagewheel turns
Again and again and once more
On a lazy walk through eternity
Yet our eyes still lift
To the lost memories of a horizon
Somewhere distant
Tugging at our atrophied heartstrings
Turning our compass needles
Ever towards
That feeling we called home
I'm not sure about this, I don't know whether it needs more polishing or whether it reads okay as is. Anyway.
-plaz out-

