From The Bottom Of These Days

Castles in the air of dreams, built on ground biting days
Sluggish grind , slow moving circles of ways
Twisted shaped, crossroads of planets, spinning round in my system-maze
Hours are to drain , hours are to throw into daze

From the bottom of the spiral of grief
From the bottom of this spiral ride
From the bottom of these days should false proved to be right ?

Years exist to run , minds to blast, looks to stray, words to dig deep
Love to bloom and wither , lies to be fit to eat
To exist to exit ? To appear to hide ? To rise to fall ? To know to forsake ?
To close my eyes oh, just before I wake ?

- Mother Sand & Father Stone -
Way - I believe in your signs
Writing the Book of My Days
Phrases of some dying sighs

Hold , hold my head out of the flow
I'm out of my breath
I see myself out of my soul

Looked for the meaning
Between the faded lines
Found pseudo answers
from time to time

Sand-be our Mother
At the end of the Way
Stone-like Father reposes around
Sand-be my Mother
Just let me drift away
Sister Wind, Brother Storm tear me out of this cold ground
Sun keep on rising...
Sun keep on rising...

Just pray days become prey of The Stream's
called Endless Almighty Time
it keeps alive all of the dreams...for a while

Hold , hold my head out of the flow
I'm out of my breath
I see myself out of my soul