in days of constant slumber
i am miles behind your sheets
this is not my long awaited triumph
this is my first and last of defeats
days will go by in numbers
and you will forsee the empty seats
and i will look for you high and low
until i mourn these dying streets
i choose to speak the truth
not because i want to
but because it's must
those who live the earth should know
that those who vanished from the memory
must reclaim their existence in a loving thought.
my woman from the foreign lands
i speak to you with all sincerity and love
i am a bedouin who fled to this modern state of grief
i reside between your voice
and the city where i have declared my defeat
and i love you
in all of your southern ways.
i've been missing a sense of serenity in my life and it lies within the sea, so i brought the sea, his sea, his waves, his sense of serenity and hanged it in my room, right in front of my bed, now i wake up drowned and belonged by his great wave of emotions, a man i knew through a painting.
