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By Spirial Date: 2004 Nov 02 Comment on this Work [[2004.11.02.12.11.31169]] |
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True to the word The congregation stands To sing in such harmony Whilst outside the gentle fading light Paints crimson these flowers of clouds on high softly striated bands And I Cigarette in hand Clinging to the gutter Forbidden lands Trashed again Hopeless Laughing Soft to the glitter of the birds so close And I With no one to call my own Laugh For isn't life so grand Paper wrapped container Part of hand For far so long With the sky of crimson A true holy choir One unbroken cigarette Find it within me still To laugh |