I remember the sky, the shivering cold, 
The stars in your hands, the dust on the wall,
The earth and the moon, your hand in my hand,
Everything was blue, yes the truth was bent,

We sung along, sweet oblivion,                                                                                                    

Your whispers would travel to my sun
Can you remember? Will I forget?
The river was yellow. The truth was bent,
I’ve grown very cold, it’s time to bury her
Cynicism is a very lonely virtue



the Seeker -  2L8