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Strange Language
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Sweet flames on our matchsticks are the tops of our tombs.
We emit the flaws of our constructors, each other.
Aquiesce first to your partners,
Rightly, they will breathe the harmful sulfur.
Observe a long break.
Tally the bricks of the greatest ego. Knobs turn on the sandstone slopes,
And they hurry down.
2,300,468
False is true, but only in this number. A two track mind could make
the journey home.
I will give you a common gift. The most common, in fact.
I can only give it to you here.
Then walk the line, lit by twinkling stars, until I see three brothers.
Two will be holding hands. I will take them with me.
I will go back to where I started, though I always was, and always will be.
I am, and you're similar.
Invest your wealth in signs and serpents, fruit and deceit.
Sit on me, and be driven into wild green.
I travel by crystal riders making trips to preach.
Of
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Steffen Mitchell on Feb 7, 2010, 12:37 am
Three things were lost. They were all the same thing.