syntax trees: further and further from the rural youth, seeing the stars every night, and actually hearing quiet. the city never rests comfortably.
lyrics
a moment without language
nose against the window screen
quaking leaves on the trees
it all fades
what i know
is buried beneath
a forest of syntax trees
over the bridge and through the hills
and it still haunts you
no more grass and rocks
in place concrete blocks
asphalt and white lines
all day in the confines
what i know
is buried beneath
a forest of syntax trees
over the bridge and through the hills
and it still haunts you
falling down is a virtue of what?
a slow ride, a question mark
we sit and watch the river run its' course
falling down is a virtue of what?
memory fades and do we forget?
instead we sit and worship it
we choose to forget
we remember one fact
there are places we never want to call home
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