Not at all so far from losing all
that good innocence and turning into
one of them. Like the guy about a halfway
to the ground. Still consumed by some
need he cannot name or put a finger on.
But there are still some strange dynamics
to it. Some highs and lows to bending just
In a room full of dust
All shapes clouded inside
Room full of dust
As some far reach of the sun
With just a bit of it teasing, looking in.
Around some corners
Around, in the deep inside
That will soften to a beautiful promise.
You can see some ghosts of workers moving about
still. Flowing, heaving to and fro.
Here at the far reaches of the sun.