Category: Jam Session
Nothing is in this world can be as immaculate and pure as the love of us cold ones for the dead.Our love lives only in those fleeting moments of recollection.....Memories
we'er fearing to forget.
Our love knows neither kiss or touch,we are embracing dust ,air or ourselves when visualising what we've lost.
Awoken by a sound or scent,some vision call sad phantoms...,floating ,wrapped in fading colours.....--our lament.
And then there is the all-devouring dread: "Some day I might not bring him back...,when my feeble mind can't help but lose the contours of his face".
Lost forever,lone and sad,gone forever to the dead...--so far beyond the barriers of the opposite space.
Yet alas ,despite it all walking through these deserted halls ...Its easy ....Still...To love the dead-- Its easier to love the dead.