Still and Silent, if you Please

Toes frozen cold and fingers numb,
So much work has yet to be done.
The clock strikes twelve,
The clock strikes one;
I’ve lost it now, I’ve come undone.

Circles deep and dark under my eyes,
Fighting tooth and nail against the skies,
We’re waiting for the Gods to sigh—
Once they give in and all oblige,
Tearshed ends and floods will cease terrorize.

A people steeped in all this pain
Can only endure so much rain.
The clouds will bow their heads in shame,
And see this as the cruelest game;
They’ll never come ’round here again.

On Tradition

Aus Gott wird man gebor'n, in Christo stirbet man. //////////////// Und in dem heil'gen Geist fängt man zu leben an.


"If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space." - anonymous




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