these are the days when all doors are closed…
these are the days all windows are dirty and cold…cold is our reality
…yet these are days of bright skies, days of contemplation
…yet these are days of clean exposure…
heart-warm hopes driven above…
we could discuss our points…
but today silence is gold…
we could discuss our joining…
but today silence is gold…
not today…today just feel the wind…
these are the days, the days of clean exposure…
when a scratch could mean bleeding…
a gentle touch of knives and blood and pride…
under these bright skies we play minor roles