Friday, September 19, 2003
james joyce is bad for me...incites me on to melancholy
sweet song of Night, you sing
to me
and yet, I cannot hear your
wailful melody
the sounds of Silence
beat against my heart
and though my soul, it overflows
I know not where to start
not When or How or Why or What
thoughts cannot serve me now
except to bring me back to when
You and I alike were friends
but despite of how we try to
fool ourselves
the Truth remains the same
those Golden Days we
thought we knew
were never ours
to claim
(survey of Night)
in the spirit of modernism...here's a big sigh.
|
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sweet song of Night, you sing
to me
and yet, I cannot hear your
wailful melody
the sounds of Silence
beat against my heart
and though my soul, it overflows
I know not where to start
not When or How or Why or What
thoughts cannot serve me now
except to bring me back to when
You and I alike were friends
but despite of how we try to
fool ourselves
the Truth remains the same
those Golden Days we
thought we knew
were never ours
to claim
(survey of Night)
in the spirit of modernism...here's a big sigh.
|
