Virus Dead Cities Of Syria
Dancing on the surface of my eyes the acoustics of the sands The swarming song inside the heat of the breath of dead sleep That rocks the empty boats tied up to the barren shores and pounded by crumbling forts
I've found the dead cities of Syria lost in the sands The grains of ghosts and traces of (various) apocalypses and of men never born Smouldered, harassed and bothered where the stood, angelically, shoulder to shoulder
In solitary landscapes empty men watches Delicate pigments of gone silhouettes
There was life here before the sands swept through the waters and replaced the rapids and sung and howled in between the houses
