19 Jun 2009
Wax nostalgic
‘till the moon is tired of your photographs.
Memories: they don’t warm your heart,
they just burn the skin.

Close your eyes,
It’s time for bed.
Look inside,
It’s in your head.

Close your eyes,
It’s time for bed.
Look inside,
It’s not there.

Ghost in the mirror staring back at you,
what have you become?
Sigh as you might,
you can never go back to where you come from.

Close your eyes,
It’s time for bed.
Look inside,
It’s in your head.

Close your eyes,
It’s time for bed.
Look inside,
It’s not there.