The quiet sadness of the people of the North Echoes silently around the cold grey places Ecstasies undared Tremble upon the edge of the tightly, respectably unfulfilled Who drink to excess in order to forget what never happened Brave faces Well dressed ordered minds on suicide's edge Reflected in the rain-skimmed slate grey, battleship grey, hardship grey
And further South, and homeless Here I am Globally altered and dishevelled Oh darling, I've done it all An antithesis of sorts And yet bound together and hopelessly in love With the inevitable loss And the end How can we run from ourselves?
[Pete:] "A is a nice place to go. What were those chords again?"
Nit Rock ManiaClub...Angel's Wings cyworld.com/vusrmsdyd