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A golden screen is written down
They said : âthe journey is like an helter skelter
There are fields of open arms
A thousand sunrises for a one and only nightâ
A golden screen is written down
Will there be light, did they harvest a guide ?
Naked water might fall from an austere womb
Consider handling nausea as an
Attempt to take a look at the cosmic blend
The black hole is now turning high above
Down the victory lies of the modern scorn
A scary fleet of realistic views
Turns on daylight clues
The pulse is strength
Donât feel the strange pulse
The pulse is no one but now
Itâs here
The wave is the tool
Of misunderstanding
Continuous and yet discrete
As ignorance
Accomplished void,
Ruthless emptiness
A burdenâs locked
In a wooden static clock
But still waving on and on...
They removed all the planets, all the matter
They said âdonât you think your are part of it now ?â
They scattered the axes and the pavement
They said âyour an âIâ and you shall build the right âwhy ?â â
They shattered the fields of open arms
They said â thereâre no rules, but everlasting comasâ
They hid a golden screen to be found out, but we're blind
They claimed â thereâs no tool, youâre running out of timeâ
Climbing up the ladder up-side-down
Will prevent you from seeing the sky, and beyond, beyond...
I am dropping out !
will they turn on?
Shall we tune in ?
I am dropping out !
I am dropping out !
Iâm a wheel of thoughts and now ? what am I ?
Donât tell me once more there are shelters to unravel
I feel the pulse is waving on and on, in me
Thereâs a pattern of absolute awakening in emptiness