Død Kalm
006
So the waters are slowly fading into a restPlace for the last ritesFor the writheThe writing on the shattered pieces of wood is hard to decryptAs they got softer by the water erosion
This is the Saga, made for you
The foghorn from infinite distance barely makes itself heardAs it has travelled though black holes, white holes, wormholes,Wormwood growing in the fields of Algeria back in the FiftiesAll the white houses, blue skies, smell of heat and dust
Smoke of a pipe finding it is waySmoke of the water dripping on the pavementAs the summer day is slowly fading into a rest