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What is this thing,
This little hidden place
Amid the furore of our space
A thing where we are being, human,
Open, raw, fearless and perhaps
Truthful, at least,
To the savage cries that I speak to
A minim.
Which plays for me, for this place,
In my hidden space
It hurts, that space in the mind and heart,
Of torn hopes, inexplicably linked to
The clouded senses, the broken body
Resting upon a balance of whim,
a Gods choice, a cold plaything
It hurts, in the shadows
Why?
What is this for, except to cause us human flaws
And once a flash of fire, a flash of obscure,
Elation
That is muffled by the core,
Of that place, deep inside, where nothing is real,
And everything is dreamlike, ready to fall upon a blanket of
Sleep.
But this hurts.
This little hidden place.
This little hidden place
Amid the furore of our space
A thing where we are being, human,
Open, raw, fearless and perhaps
Truthful, at least,
To the savage cries that I speak to
A minim.
Which plays for me, for this place,
In my hidden space
It hurts, that space in the mind and heart,
Of torn hopes, inexplicably linked to
The clouded senses, the broken body
Resting upon a balance of whim,
a Gods choice, a cold plaything
It hurts, in the shadows
Why?
What is this for, except to cause us human flaws
And once a flash of fire, a flash of obscure,
Elation
That is muffled by the core,
Of that place, deep inside, where nothing is real,
And everything is dreamlike, ready to fall upon a blanket of
Sleep.
But this hurts.
This little hidden place.
very......thing
What is this thing,
This little hidden place
Amid the furore of our space
A thing where we are being, human,
Open, raw, fearless and perhaps
Truthful, at least,
To the savage cries that I speak to
A minim.
Which plays for me, for this place,
In my hidden space
It hurts, that space in the mind and heart,
Of torn hopes, inexplicably linked to
The clouded senses, the broken body
Resting upon a balance of whim,
a Gods choice, a cold plaything
It hurts, in the shadows
Why?
What is this for, except to cause us human flaws
And once a flash of fire, a flash of obscure,
Elation
That is muffled by the core,
Of that place, deep inside, where nothing is real,
And everything is dreamlike, ready to fall upon a blanket of
Sleep.
But this hurts.
This little hidden place.
This little hidden place
Amid the furore of our space
A thing where we are being, human,
Open, raw, fearless and perhaps
Truthful, at least,
To the savage cries that I speak to
A minim.
Which plays for me, for this place,
In my hidden space
It hurts, that space in the mind and heart,
Of torn hopes, inexplicably linked to
The clouded senses, the broken body
Resting upon a balance of whim,
a Gods choice, a cold plaything
It hurts, in the shadows
Why?
What is this for, except to cause us human flaws
And once a flash of fire, a flash of obscure,
Elation
That is muffled by the core,
Of that place, deep inside, where nothing is real,
And everything is dreamlike, ready to fall upon a blanket of
Sleep.
But this hurts.
This little hidden place.