We are desolate homes, Nature's has-beens,
Trapped in waves ever crashing
Then spit, fragmented, on the stony shore
Broken shells, worn smooth with wounds.
Broken shells, worn smooth
We are desolate homes, Nature's has-beens,
Trapped in waves ever crashing
Then spit, fragmented, on the stony shore
Broken shells, worn smooth with wounds.
My Thoughts From Afar | 