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I'm not sure wether this is just another string in the claustrophobic net, or a walkway in the liberating golden skies. Each leaf on the branch has a story to tell, and it's the little things we burn and forget. The little things that are just the smoke in the air from the earth's roasting future. Now i can't tell the difference between earth and concrete, because when you fall, they both bring you down to earth. It's sometimes the most doomed thing, to look at the tarnished pavement, but then the sunlight splits your gloom and dismay, and sends you high into the sky, and appreciate what autumn brings. The tangled green trees, in a perfect marraige of the magpies, squirrels and wildlife, and looking up you can see, the blue sky peeking through, like the finger of the artist pacing through the colours, and blending them into a single entity. Sometimes the only thing left to do is let your feelings go, and release them for the benefit of the innocents.
har...
Hm. If the weaving thread of a pretty tapestry could speak, I imagine it would say something similar.
I'm not sure wether this is just another string in the claustrophobic net, or a walkway in the liberating golden skies. Each leaf on the branch has a story to tell, and it's the little things we burn and forget. The little things that are just the smoke in the air from the earth's roasting future. Now i can't tell the difference between earth and concrete, because when you fall, they both bring you down to earth. It's sometimes the most doomed thing, to look at the tarnished pavement, but then the sunlight splits your gloom and dismay, and sends you high into the sky, and appreciate what autumn brings. The tangled green trees, in a perfect marraige of the magpies, squirrels and wildlife, and looking up you can see, the blue sky peeking through, like the finger of the artist pacing through the colours, and blending them into a single entity. Sometimes the only thing left to do is let your feelings go, and release them for the benefit of the innocents.