Drunken dreams are cried out from the streets,
yet we are both in ecstasy.
Into another, we leave this place.
Drifting from reality.
and then...
A silent thunder beckons us back to creation.
As we scream, our voices turn to empty echoes.
We plea.
We Beg.
Nothing is as it seems.
but after i wrote another verse in the second one you just read, i hit a writers block and haven't been able to write anything else since. not too shabby though, eleven songs in three days is pretty impressive if you ask me.
here are some pictures i took while i was downtown:
-mar k
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