Tuesday, April 28, 2009

I wounded them gently
So that it would be as if they couldn’t feel any pain
By replacing it with words
I made myself forget that sorrow
Ah, what have I lost right now?

There is the memory of a dream
Created from the sounds of a sin you can’t expiate
From this world I longed for
People’s prayers have just vanished, they are always imperfect

(i do not own)

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