love is for family, sons and daughters
and all the sons and daughters that are born of them
with the weights of their parents upon their memories
in an endless chain that links long forgotten moments
like woollen strings, constantly unravelling
multiplying, cascading, all going their own ways
love is for family
but peace is only found in you, only you
no one else can make your peace
plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead
well, that maybe so, but for me
sleep only matters when we are alive
how do these words write themselves?
they are only like street lamps
reflecting in the road when it’s raining
and the night…
so quiet and peaceful
I’m awake most of it
and when you wake up at sunrise
it’s like it’s all been a dream
and I just want to fall asleep
