the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Bearings, Bearings...

Swing low, sweet fidelity,
I left my daughter in a burning city
And found my firstborn son,
The original sin with a magnetic spin.
Sing low, deep melody,
I rest my fodder in my wounds and pity
As I shook the compass in my hand,
But blood kept pumping by demand.

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