Said to be the sundial of savages, the shadows where one can read the absence of the thing represented. Only during daylight of course.
We'd known the truths about life early so we had some pillow fights to remember our homes and sing some songs to remember you by.
We'd been runnin' on some different clocks, the world. It was a man in a mildew-smelling crumpled ball of a jacket that tapped ...
No comments:
Post a Comment