|
wind. the wind |
|
begin to ascend. |
|
reach for anything, |
|
as the air has no end. |
|
but soon, you'll wind |
|
down through the air |
|
with only the cold, hard ground |
|
meeting you there. |
|
feel the soil |
|
running through your nose. |
|
it's a wound down music box |
|
that doesn't know how it goes. |
|
it's a simple memory |
|
that falls apart as it grows. |
|
it's a simple memory |
|
that falls apart as it grows. |
|
now that picture is cracked |
|
and the color is gone. |
|
and the last thing I remember |
|
I can no longer see. |
|
there's a tree that grows into |
|
a tree that collapses. |
|
but from there, it goes off |
|
into the scenery. |
