standing

The dust waiting in the backstage
All friends gather outside in disguise

Your memory sings mistakes like unapproachable conquering
Illusions . . . songs of that blind guitar

Oppressive swallow
Your throat is sore of dreams

The chords play
moving dust
All to a waste of towers in time

The landscape dry and infertile

The stars don’t shine without your knowledge

I can’t store knowledge
I lose memory of your lips