The movement shook me like a knife to the
throat, and you gloat.... but in the end
what I see my friend is a welcome return.
The burn of what is left in the depth of
the viles and miles that have turned,
and your yearn and burn for more.
God, what a bore. The feelings and such that
all become dust as we lust for the trust and
meaning that lies gleaming in the sun.
So you think you know? And blow the words
out of your mouth, but the filth that is lingering
is subject to to the mingling of your heat and mine.
In time you will see that we all will just be --
something that we wish we were... a blur...
that will stir more than is real.
My God, thank you, I am back and the attack
can not be still, the will of the thrill pulses
in the heart of me... changing the reality
of what you thought you were.
In, and out you doubt the authenticity but in
the end the probability is pretty good for the
likelihood of something you can hold on to.
More than you, can you imagine that?