Tracing lazy circles in the sky.

Will's Murmurs (FIre& Will) (Lyrics)

In the sleep of the sleep
Her face woke up my eyes
And sealed the time
That made me feel like dreaming
A distant soul
Dots and points and lines
Suddenly out of the jar of blindness
If there's a web of creatures
On a page
That get their births from story
Tellers' bemusement
through the telescope of mind
Tonight I'm singing them alive
Now would she come and collect my pieces
At the gate shalt I wait for delieverance
I arose from the roots of the nameless
I've come close to the brim of her seamless

Dear there's a storm that's coming near
Dear stop wetting yourself here in the rain

A wish as light as feather
Whenever it is windy
My heart will always be
Ready to soar

I feels my wings are spreading
Her hands clasped in mine
My worries never rewind

Success and recess
Wax and wane it remains
But they never makes sense
At least to me

If there's a web of creatures
On a page
That get their births from story
Tellers' bemusement
through the telescope of mind
In your eyes, I see them come alive

Sublime Watching (FIre and Will/Lyrics)



Yes, I will get these errors revised
As soon as possible
But look,
Ire you are just so unconscious
Of what surrounded you
It's not that I don't trust you
If you really know what all this meant to me
In this part of the world
You'd understand
that I can't possibly believe anything

Everything since

I'm born in the sunrise
Reborn to the sunset
At night I see lights ahead of me
I am grabbing every chance

I've touched heaven's harp
I've stepped every slits of a misery life
Its essence align there now I see
My dream was set to shine

Through the rivers
To the ocean shores
Where glory resides
I knock on every door

Of the spirits in the lighthouse
They roar in the sky
And our silent creation
They were never quite as before

Darkness descends and
Hallows the ground
Man touches the sky with
Ignorant fingers
Playing with the universe

Who's standing there
Who's coming so near me
I can not see
Just like my brothers
Cladded in wings, am I really free?
Am I really me?

Villa di Lumina (Lyrics)


Canti ma cello
Tan keni homa
Sum ganna momma

Vivo can di numero
Man Kemi Tonka
Que di Historia
Ma villa momma Illumina

Semi tantella
Samni di Roma
Viro mienda
Paradie epieka

Kamisa di reha
Por ma libera
Nos seio vorina
Sora viva dan ma braseria

Canti ma cello
Lumi dan di pera
Sum vama tonka

I smile and smile to numerous curves
in nature watery edges and ridge lines
shapes of brand new continents a
flowery figure on a dime whose
numeral I never count
A delicate elegance that eyes
divide, the dividend in unstable halves
Moon calves, and ocean calls
in the heat our tears run, it runs
Across a flapping paper, the Book, I behold
a stamp so light in a lighted-life
Curves have torn those pieces hard but still we knew nothing
And so I run
Milk and honey on my feet
to the kissing mouths
Scissoring language bursting in my mouth,
I feel the weight of things I can not throw
And to thee how can I frown

You nipped the light pink petal cladded in green the way you nipped the nipple of a maiden born in early winter whose lips bitting a little bit in a beat so pleasant she crunched her teeth an ivory white a white that bore sparkles its seeds etched to skins so chilly but it grew out of spring's wombs till then there would be heard streams floating and floating like her garments you caressed your tears would be wiped by fluffy wings is this the end of the new start but you want to be an infant asking absurd questions no more so you just bury your head to the giant windmill stitched to this freshly unearthened earth.

Then the sister drank conscience cups after cups and
drops after drops of grape wine congeal
In shape of cataract it slips down the slits of your throat
And so
was born the reflective catacomb of a well-rounded soul
That was thither crowned in some ever-lasting heat

The representation of heaven on earth is a hole which blind people tug with a stick and they touched some thick mucus green it weened it was someone's past dreams spitted out and wrinkled in wine that spilled about a pickle-dipped flesh-house and someone picked it under the sun since you are wearing sunglasses you can watch it burn and flash how trivial everything is in the furnace that surrounded us that made so fury accompany a flower that stood still would shiver and wither away and so would a flame a fragile kindle of virtue that fell asleep with its fragrance delivered to every part of the world and there was no trace of ashes inside your sunglasses.

But I need a flame, a flame that burns on a broom tail and it grabs me, and suddenly I'm escorted to a hall of masquerade and there he went sitting on the antique walls with countless fellows and the people were singing, dancing. There was a big dine on the long table with grapes and roasted pigs and lambs I feel my saliva erupts in my brain like juices and creams. But I don't have any proper reason to feel hungry at all now that I'm letting my leg hanging and cracking the desk on which a hotpot of spicy colors bubbles and rumbles and it is desperate to get fucked by my tongue.

They are checking us. The tribal guards are checking naked aboriginals. Because somebody is occulting gems or blood stains. The only thing they are after is a sand lid that is lost in and made from our viscous earth I call it viscous because otherwise why might its descendant be so viscous and... vague. After the chef has inspected his soup but still there are customer complaints but they are for another reason. And so the gourmets willl wonder whether they should cut the stars they've given into halves. But some people don't need to eat. Some people don't care. Can you see all that the earth is demanding is some excellent surgeons? Their sharp tools being spears stretched out from pouring blood shed both inside and outside of the body. Like knights or revolutionaries they would point their weapon at their imaginative foes and scream: Look how they differentiate creatures! And by their indifferent differentiation make them into the simplest unreal beings!

Dwellers of Valley N light up the edge of Mount M every early evening so that ground doesn't mingle with the sky when the sun has set. And so divorced Gaia and Cronus. To reach another space with so many things the same as where you're standing yet so different you must past the glittering. But if you dare go back a few hours ago when the sun still burns bright and pours vermillion into mid-air the golden edge was still high on the clouds.