Because.I.Can
Distant thunderShroud of greyTo electric gods I prayIvory towerModern wayFlowers wilt and colours fadeEvery night and every mornSome to misery are bornSome are born to sweet delightSome are born to endless nightThe curator of a pale heartdreaming of the days it had a pulseFramed in silverRaised in shadeFragile psyche born from painA millennium in a dayGraceful degradation of my faithFrom the shores of love I departThe curator of a pale heartNull and void