Your life is a song

1 Nov

Outcropping on the edges of disaster, a nitwits dream for better things
Relay the message across the foggy hilltops and climb higher in an elevator to reach the top
The thirteenth floor stop and open the door it’s a parakleets dream to be unseen
Sitting on the floor of a burnt out reactor reacting and enacting the movements of our ancestors
Race to the finish line, it’s almost time it’s almost time
It’s hardly time at all


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