A tragic infatuation, bound by a complex series of locks, with a set of simplistic keys. A notion, buried by time and motion, trapped in caverns wide enough, to hold an ocean. Dreams of black and white, a cool breeze on a warm night, buried in wrong, struggling… to be right. Forgotten tomes covered in dust, a pile of scrap left to rust, and catacombs built upon a sacred trust. What I’m feeling is healing and detrimental effects are piled upon us by both our separate sex. A ripple in time, is always followed by a misheard rhyme. And it’s a goddamn crime, a dying shame, a buried emotion without a fucking name. A ridge carved upon the sheer face of a cliff, that perfect note, followed by this timeless rift. And the beat goes pow, pow, breaking down and trailing now. And the stars lie as another wish starts to die. And the moon, blazes to my heart and I feel it boom, then I see the destruction rush through the room. And in the wake of my mistake, a series of ticks and tocks, break the silence and my eyes venture to the damming clocks. I see the seconds flee, constantly, insistently running the fuck away from me. I reach and scramble, but it’s as if I’m illiterate, in a master’s game of scrabble. Sand and wind and an ancient carving. Dreams and dust, in a world that’s starving. Surrounded by itchy triggers and offset figures. Listen to that damnation sound, all while the ancients demons, keep me nailed to the ground.