The face glided through the neighborhood of my dreams
wearing a satin smile...
The seamstresses - my eyes,
did not stock silk...!
I look out of my window
You look at your sky
We patch it up
with blue
pieces of conversation
The blue in my heart
the blue in your eyes
The blue of the sky...
We are off... we move on
but then
I am still
I am,
still.
Art is my chosen pastime
Who else would
weigh this silence
weigh the sky
weigh your sight
weigh my smile
aren't they all nothing?
Art is the pastime of a constipated mind
Oh, I am sorry.
I was born to be apologetic
even more so, when I say the truth.
Aren't all humans?
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