Classic Tribe
Soft Step
mesophilia; stretching ones arms outvagabonds facing a recursive daygathered round fires plotting through the nightwe flee the dictions of time and spaceInto an ever expanding planea desert, a burning flameHodgepodge of wood and gas and lyingChalking up chances at apparitionBalking at trinities and dualist signsI am:ma Isingular swinging fluxsingular lulling mumHurry boys I thought I swore we cached our caught and sullen glimpses hopping on the wisp of a mirageThe faintbeat of mystic fodderrising from the sandgypsy band of brothersincoherent messWind harsh night toes freezingcant sleep shed my tombof this broken bodyLetras de cancionesbirthed from tattered wombInto a ground and solid stateburied beneath the weightof dunes and scorching yellow shineAt last I'll free this massive thingand soft step into beingthe tiny spaces in betweendot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dotsingular swinging fluxsingular lulling mumNow I'mbetween cup and waterbetween cheek and tearevery grain I fondlebeneath the veneerof all our misconceptionsand civilized careersa desert whispered somethingwe chose not to hear
From Letras Mania