|
It's blurring out of sight |
|
The faces flickering in the tinsel light on the esplanades |
|
Fluid and vanishing |
|
Dissolving, hiding things |
|
In your room, after the scene, when the faces shift |
|
Into someone else |
|
The arcade is echoing |
|
In a shattered self, the figure's shimmering |
|
Alter all the static thoughts |
|
Into something less than what was sought |
|
The splendour of within |
|
Inner helplessness no more |
|
Empty habits cure the needs |
|
Solely to concede |
|
Never disagree |
|
Seek obscurity in lucidity |
|
My identity is dying, |
|
Someone said: "Can you believe this line?" |
|
And for all |
|
I know there's a cure |
|
Faltering, reversing forward |
|
Sentiment's never odd or even |
|
The minds are solid as liquid |
|
It's reverberant and faint |
|
Vaguely luminous |
|
Everything has changed |
|
And nothing is the same |
