Sunday, May 4, 2008

Elapsed

Picking flowers in a thornfield
Looking for the right shade
Now am I being too choosy
Or are the flowers all dead?

Flickering, like the stubborn flame
That’d burn itself away
Trying to burn the wind that blows
So strong, to make me sway

Bickering, with the calm inside
But I just don’t seem to find
The most convincing way to say
You’re no more on my mind

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