Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Transience
A whisper and a sigh
Starless skies, moonlit nights
Strangers walking by
Wave of a hand, a kiss goodbye
It's a transient world we live in, and we lead very fleeting lives. Yet, people seem to seek something permanent in the face of all these. Making promises of forever which they cannot realise, but try to anyway. Very hopeful or very deluded? I wonder.
A whisper and a sigh
Starless skies, moonlit nights
Strangers walking by
Wave of a hand, a kiss goodbye
It's a transient world we live in, and we lead very fleeting lives. Yet, people seem to seek something permanent in the face of all these. Making promises of forever which they cannot realise, but try to anyway. Very hopeful or very deluded? I wonder.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Promise
You promised the sky
Why should I believe you
You said I could fly
But nothing seems true
Hope is gone
Trust is lost
Faith has died
You win, I lose
It seems like a game
I thought I knew the rules
Things started to change
Was is I, or was it you
Hope is gone
Trust is lost
Faith has died
You win, I lose
Nothing ever means the way it seems to be
Nothing ever works out the way it should be
No one ever raised me up, threw me down
The way you did
Did to me
You promised the sky
Why should I believe you
You said I could fly
But nothing seems true
Hope is gone
Trust is lost
Faith has died
You win, I lose
It seems like a game
I thought I knew the rules
Things started to change
Was is I, or was it you
Hope is gone
Trust is lost
Faith has died
You win, I lose
Nothing ever means the way it seems to be
Nothing ever works out the way it should be
No one ever raised me up, threw me down
The way you did
Did to me
Hope is gone
Trust is lost
Faith has died
You win, I lose
Monday, September 13, 2004
You know you're spending way too much time online when your virtual nick gets more hits on Google than your real name ;)
Monday, September 06, 2004
Once again, I face an uninspired night, sitting in front of the screen with nothing to write. No angst, no story, no poetry. Just waiting. Nervous heaves of breaths, wondering when the spark would come. Perhaps when I take that next breath...
Silliness. That's what it is.
Silliness. That's what it is.
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