sadness, and you're freeing our souls

feels like a night (no rain) someone should be on the other line. someone should be calling, and it's here, waiting.

so you're a metaphor for everything that ever mattered, and you carry angels on your back across cool desolate countries, and long green stems spring forth from your footstep bringing every last beautiful thing to life and washing it clean, washing all of us clean, and taking us, taking us home.

you were always home to me.

2003-05-23 | 9:35 p.m.
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