There's a storm outside.
And I just can't help but shake at the flames,
For biting and licking the chimney walls,
It's less like a dance, and more like a fit:
Fevered convulsions;
Froth at the mouth;
Rising again in billowing forms;
Wafting it's way,
Through the narrow cave,
Cast in blood, yet white and grey,
Turning and turning:
Whipping with fury;
Coughing again it's own red light,
I think we're all, when it comes to the end,
Caught in the act of caring,
Temperamental like the wind;
Flaunting our way through narrow revelations;
Caught in a madman's fantasy,
There's something so fickle about that air;
The way it bothers and hurts the flam
You must think me very strange by brazunti, literature
Literature
You must think me very strange
You must think me very strange my love,
A funny man, tall as trees,
A smile for you to warm your heart,
Passing on like summer breeze,
Oh, you must think me very strange my love,
Am I different? I can't be sure,
Have you ever met another,
Who was quite like me before?
Or am I just like all the others,
To come a-knocking at your door,
With words of love, but deeds undone,
By words themselves, I'd though before—
Oh you must think me very strange my love,
Or mayhap you know not what to think—
Oh,
I see,
These heavy thoughts too dark for dawn,
So whisper them to me at night,
We'll sit awake beneath the sheets,
And mutter in the can
Come to the door,
You hear me knocking,
Frantic in the winter sky,
And all a-dressed,
In robe and stocking,
As drips and dregs of snow float by,
And rainy days,
Turned ice a-rocking,
Cheeks a-blushing,
Demeanour mocking,
Tongues a-wagging as I cry:
"The midnight hour has passed us by",
And may perhaps,
You heard my voice,
Though you hung me up,
Ere I had the choice,
And so my good,
And kindly sir,
I would I could,
Say one time more:
I might a minute,
Or so be late,
In fashion or,
Some delicate,
Affair of time,
To get me there,
Or one some other,
Un-time'd affair;
An hour or two,
May come to pass,
In which our welcome,
May surpass,
The gentl
One hundred men on the railway tracks,
They sweat, and groan, and break their backs,
To build the line to break the west,
With an iron vain laid 'cross the chest,
And 'cross the plains where the stallions run,
Harsh cut in two 'neath mid-day sun,
Stand other men with eyes of awe,
With darkened skin and cries of war,
They fell upon those men in toil,
All grim and grey and drenched in oil,
Of sweaty limbs and broken backs,
That toil upon the railway tracks,
And blackened sand then cracks like fire,
And proud men fall 'neath Satan's ire,
And all the while, 'neath summer sun,
They toil and break 'till work is done,
And men of awe, with darken
I'm sitting in a plain white chair.
The chair sits in the middle of a plain white floor.
The plain white floor extends in all directions.
Everything in the room is lit with a cold light.
I look to my right, and there the floor comes to a wall, the same color and shade as the ground and the chair.
I look to my left, but there the floor extends into a grey nothingness.
I can't see beyond the wall, and maybe I never will.
Someone sitting next to me whispers in my ear that there is nothing there to see, but when I turn towards the empty voice, they are gone.
I once again look at the wall and marvel at it's perfection.
The transition is s
Over leafless trees,
In the meadow far beyond,
The old and lonely swallow,
Sings it's long heartbroken song,
Winter comes to veil the land,
With icy drifts of white and grey,
And winter's voice, of howling wind,
Doth take the swallow's song away,
And in the oak,
It's leaves all gone,
Save one branch weighed,
With frosted stars,
I see the swallow,
Take it's rest,
In deadened leaves,
And wait to pass,
And as the night bears on and on,
And winter's teeth sink deep inside,
The tiny chest heart beat goes on,
With deathly lulls from time to time,
And as I watch,
With hollow hope,
For storm to pass,
And sun to shine,
The swal
And with my hand I claim the land,
And by my eye, all under sky,
And as that land is caught in awe,
I cut that land to claim the shore,
And with my land, it's riches keep,
I take my wont to claim the deep,
And shore to shore I lay that claim,
To scotch the earth for my own gain,
And not enough? I claim the sky!
I take land's wealth and fix my eye,
Beyond the land, on ever more,
I claim my place beyond star's door,
And children weep, and power grows,
And all our greed from heaven's woes,
'Till cast we down, in endless war,
We throw ourselves toward death's door,
And as that greed fills ev'ry heart,
The land itself is torn apar