These were your words, these are my words.
Let us make a line between them and not allow the ends to meet.
Let us show all for what it is really worth.
These are powerful, these are weak.
I am like lava melting as a condescending tone amongst truthful speech.
I am not warm, I am cold. Colder than actions, colder than words.
I remember the thickness of the air as he whisphered lets turn around.
We were nowhere near the edge yet we were further from the centre.
Where the lights were hanged up so beautifully. That is the sound of tomorrow.
These are the words that taint young kids. If we were all in the same bubble does that exclude the uniqueness of an innocent mind?
I speak words and hope the meaning you will find.
They do not translate directly, not always correctly. Nonetheless they travel from mouth to mouth, un filtered.
Words are cold . But love is colder than words.
Another Fly On The Wall 