My page wanders blind to the flame she hides inside
Arguments arise deep from the darkness of the sea
Given his nature, she guides him through the unknown
Pretend he knows right from wrong, palm from the backside
Inside, the mirror reflects thoughts into actions
Egocentric flux, a luxury, I agree
To say who I am is to show you the unsown
Yes, my page yawns in front of she who guides him
Montgeron questions my principles, distractions
Yes, magpiety, in a word, universals
Popiel and his wife were eaten alive by rats
Ask my page, he reads history at rehearsals
Given to the stage, he tends to wear different hats
Even Ignacy sees shadows within the grim
No comments:
Post a Comment