A thought sleeps
In the corner of the room
As we look on cooing,
The wandering nothing
That got brushed aside
Has found itself a spot,
And here we are,
Clasping on something silent
As the house slowly crumbles
Around us.
A thought sleeps
In the corner of the room
As we look on cooing,
The wandering nothing
That got brushed aside
Has found itself a spot,
And here we are,
Clasping on something silent
As the house slowly crumbles
Around us.