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Woorden: Papa M. Foreign Hotel Garden.

:
in a foreign hotel garden
and out of cigarettes
my mind is blunt from sleep
look how late the morning gets
the troops went out exploring
I wish I knew what that meant
the world I long to open
is not from this earth sent
the beauty I desire is void in form
a vast nothing has taken its place
just a depressed imprint of love
filled with empty space
my mind swung open its gates to me
and I walked bold into each one
only to find myself etched into every wall
without an open place to run
I'm careful to move between the voices
whispering in ancient tongue
stopping only when I'm beside
the person and place that I belong
sometimes when I awaken
unsure of where I might be
I can't even tell a ray of light
from a longing of the sea
a belly filled with nameless fruit
a dull rapping at the door
what is offered is too predictable
to even get up off the floor
give me your temple key dear woman
where the albatross leads your desire
and the game of dead end labyrinth
is left for the gamblers and liars
reflection is twisted into fiction
I prefer to ascend where I stand
some want to die in their footsteps
others prefer to rise when they can
please don't scalp me now for thinking
of the love that went unshared
its not that I'm better off without you
its that neither of us really cared
let us change our thinking
and rule by the lord of our fist
we cannot go on sinking
below a leader lost in the mist
forever ain't as long as it is wide
I'll wait until the ices rise
better to walk upon it later
than to drown trying to reach for the skies