gone all the way over
|
gone to the other shore
|
|
like a mantra the waves
|
roll in and she listens
|
to hear that eternal
|
sweet low repetition she says
|
|
I? carefully booting
|
my trail through the sand
|
crossing the dunes over repossessed land
|
|
gone, gone, gone all the way over
|
gone to the other shore
|
|
while dead sharp I wait
|
she says all these questions
|
are useless to ask
|
make one fine scrapcollection she says
|
|
floodgate of memories
|
comes to a hold
|
dead sharp I wait till the story unfolds
|
|
like a mantra the waves
|
roll in and she listens
|
to hear that eternal
|
sweet low repetition
|
|
-----------------
|
Repossessed
|
| Beaver |
