AutumnFloods

I have crushed the red, in all its mighty with my hands; Then I have emptied cauldrons of white, all pure in their light; And rose my hands to the sky - Youth to sky and age to earth - I have smashed the goblet of life, Both innocent and dark, By a simple throw of thought; For I could not prevent, The fire in my hand; All the sweetness was just a lie, I have brought reason against life.

Illusions Illusions of a thousand and endless conclusions Visions Visions of a thousand and foolish decisionsNow the poor old mister has fallen over Has fallen over the bloodied bricks of his own wall And plucked the grass under his weight And crawled up all so tall.The windows from his house have crashed along The infinite bricks are laid with grass so wrong But poor mister doesn't know they don't belong There; admist the disaster he has found another hollow song.The walls have wept And he hasn't slept No, not all He felt so small.And now there are strangers coming over to his house With friendly faces, forcing him to swiftly rouse And no...