Sunday, 1 March 2015

Nemtsov & Pussyriot's son(s) & daughter(s)







Periodical son

when the days disappear in the distance
new avenues open up
I talk to the walls
I climb on all fours
Abseiling down life
In a world where they make you feel small
Bound by gravity I still walk tall

the bank teller
the story teller
has a price to sell
a tale of life
inherent vice
for a new generation
the fool who knew too much
was willing to give it all away
revealing yesterdays Washington's Post   
caught up in the rat race
newspapers shed their tears and the looking glass reflects the children's fears
In the parks kept in the dark schools read hieroglyphics no one can decipher
a steep learning curve no-one should give in to

We shatter the walls
We scatter the laws
What does it matter when we become ghosts
We talk in our sleep
We sink in the deep
What will it matter when we all steal a dream 

when the days disappear in the distance
new worlds open up
I talk to the walls
I climb on all fours
Abseiling through life

I will wake up  
On the avenues of fate
I will wake up
I will wake up
I will never hate
I will wake up
I will wake up
On the avenues of fate
I will wake up

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