Live Shows/Dogs

    When I wake up from dreams about the crest
    And feel this sense of fading
    I know that on the other side of night
    I might see a different ceiling
    One with a fan
    Maybe

    And without hands there's somehow still a clinging
    But please don't explain
    I get tired sometimes of knowing
    I manage without
    And prefer
    Even

    Still from time to time heaves a signatory draft
    My wings part feet from ground
    Where white clover grows in soil
    Soaked with the coward's blood
    Sustaining and exhaling
    I reholster

Choose a Direction

West - North - East - South