Morning Star (The Stones Cry Your Name)
Phosphorus rises above the ripening morning and fades;
I hear the globe rotate
Rock grind against rock, the tombstone rolling
The sound of greater certainty.
I hear the globe rotate
Rock grind against rock, the tombstone rolling
The sound of greater certainty.
1 Comments:
Btw, I can explain this poem to you if you like.
By The Borg, At 11:53 AM
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