Post by TheAstronaut on Nov 18, 2002 19:14:33 GMT 10
Unaware
This winter is drawing too close too soon
In these coming months I will learn to fly
In these coming months I will learn to die
Play without clay and you'll be left dry
They remind me of whispers looming in shadows
Reigning for what they do not have
Thirteen; Shameness blooms with fatigue
My rose lost all of it petals because of me
Things about you, you say and I disagree
I've lost my mind and i've come to the conclusion
Theres only one you, one of them and two of me
Thirteen; And where I'm going yesterday, towards you
This winter is drawing too close too soon
In these coming months I will learn to fly
In these coming months I will learn to die
Play without clay and you'll be left dry
They remind me of whispers looming in shadows
Reigning for what they do not have
Thirteen; Shameness blooms with fatigue
My rose lost all of it petals because of me
Things about you, you say and I disagree
I've lost my mind and i've come to the conclusion
Theres only one you, one of them and two of me
Thirteen; And where I'm going yesterday, towards you