i (i) wrote,
i
i

IN A DARK LAND
WITH A PALE SKY
WHERE THE PAIN LIVES
AND THE FEAR GROWS

HOLDING ON TO ALL THE THINGS
I DO NOT NEED

CONSCIENCE BLEEDS RED
AND DREAMS BECOME DUST
WHEN THE HOT WIND
SWEEPS THE COLD EARTH

RUNNING WITH MY EYES CLOSED
I DO NOT SEE

This just came to me while I was driving home today. I was listening to Peter Gabriel's song, Fourteen Black Paintings, but before the lyrics started, these words started in my head, so I turned it off an started writing as I drove. Dunno what it means, but it seems to flow.
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