.
The morning breaks over the atlantic arc. And brings me nothing but an old dried dream.
Then i have a prayer and a cold corner
because you never wanted me near
to your deceit and your fear...
The opaque seagulls yield a tired sunrise under the fat old sun
on the turning away...
As the profound and the shallow melt down over a screen of blue sky: disappear...
Goodbye blue skies
goodbye dear lies
and your deceit and your regret
and this broken man, yet.
And your fear...
And all the times that you made me
disappear.
.
