Some of us are
tucked into the epicentre...
* I am in no way downplaying those who have died...
These streets once filled...
You know I think I prefer
The Earth as a child...
We are locked in our lighthouses,
and the chasms of ocean...
Out of body
I see myself float...
(I)
Majestic; globalism's own pulsing heart...
This town is a poem
These roads are eloquent...
Very difficult to explain,
some say nothing more...
Love is on my way, with infinite
heart and unlimited value...
There was a land
made by Gods hand...
I feel I'm growing older
as my dark hair starts to grey...
Phone me up and threaten me
and weave your evil threats...