I sift through the wreckage for signs of life
Scrolling through the paragraphs
Clicking through the photographs
I dream in e-mails
Worn-out phrases
Mile after mile of just empty pages
And maybe you'll find life is unkind and over so soon.
There's no golden gate, there's no heaven waiting for you
Who are you? What are you fighting for?
Holy truth, brother I choose this mortal life.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
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