Looking outward
The dark disk circles above
The master discs appear lost
In status
Having the correct status
The correct status
To spin into place
It is the dream of lepers
For they were sworn at
Those bitter children
Climbing the cold cold hill
Withering in their hands
Touching air they arrive
Holding their chest
For a moment
To hear politeness
Decent people
Who offer something real
Perhaps it is possible.
The dark disk circles above
The master discs appear lost
In status
Having the correct status
The correct status
To spin into place
It is the dream of lepers
For they were sworn at
Those bitter children
Climbing the cold cold hill
Withering in their hands
Touching air they arrive
Holding their chest
For a moment
To hear politeness
Decent people
Who offer something real
Perhaps it is possible.
No comments:
Post a Comment