The Last Show by Illogicist
You can feel the dust in your throat
Some minutes have the taste of a century
Like a clock without a lance
Like a zombie, sleep walker without a goal
Our life is running so fast
And we are all yearning for more
To go back, looking into your past
Without pain and your mental sore
Clock without lances
minutes that come
Escaping from your last show
But time is not so slow
Kill your every shade. Kill your thoughts and your fate
|
