Do you hear the Ringing?
A sure sign of Tinitus self misdiagnosis, but then its double entendre has to be time is nearing the end.
Going back to a an article about an Angel in the sky...I've begun to hear the music playing. Someone else has taken the Conductor's Wand and with a more powerful voice begun writing new music inside my head.
I suspect the concoction of pain killers and hayfever tablets with the weather changes has something to do with this. If it isn't it's more likely to do with the fact I found out about the Voca People from the Planet Voca, my that's an extra-ordinary musical performance from a highly original 'band'.
The question is do you hear the ringing? Well, connected with the Angels yet another addition I have found of Angels. And to the story too, the losing of ones soul:
Going back to a an article about an Angel in the sky...I've begun to hear the music playing. Someone else has taken the Conductor's Wand and with a more powerful voice begun writing new music inside my head.
I suspect the concoction of pain killers and hayfever tablets with the weather changes has something to do with this. If it isn't it's more likely to do with the fact I found out about the Voca People from the Planet Voca, my that's an extra-ordinary musical performance from a highly original 'band'.
The question is do you hear the ringing? Well, connected with the Angels yet another addition I have found of Angels. And to the story too, the losing of ones soul:
Mist (Nebel) Orchestrations.
When in time we are ready to leave, the plug is pulled. Everyday, the wheels turn, the motors squeezed a little further, someone old and new comes past and yet no one wants to stop by.
I fear I have lost me
"Somewhere out there the real me exists, but this pretence I currently hold, is just an exaggeration of one scope. My softer suttleties are bruised and whatever I do are not repairing, everytime one step forwards, two steps back. I could be shouting from the skies and still be drowned out."
I smell the Division Bell coming, I see the awkward faces, I hear the unsaid thoughts. I am no longer meant to be, the struggle, the downfall, the end is here. Three months tops, it turns out no one is willing to provide a genuine warmth, all I see is cold breaths and murky scars even the genuine ones of olde have abandoned.* It's time to sail this ship one last time.
*When accidental contact of people you knew from another life time occurs what is the appropriate thing to do? It turns out on this occasion, all that's happened is a direct line of interrogation. Once accompllished, you are forgotten. The aim: to prove they're better than you and throw you back in the heap and this from a lady of the church.
I fear I have lost me"Somewhere out there the real me exists, but this pretence I currently hold, is just an exaggeration of one scope. My softer suttleties are bruised and whatever I do are not repairing, everytime one step forwards, two steps back. I could be shouting from the skies and still be drowned out."
I smell the Division Bell coming, I see the awkward faces, I hear the unsaid thoughts. I am no longer meant to be, the struggle, the downfall, the end is here. Three months tops, it turns out no one is willing to provide a genuine warmth, all I see is cold breaths and murky scars even the genuine ones of olde have abandoned.* It's time to sail this ship one last time.
Foreclosure does not exist in humanity only as a commodity, I am not a commodity and therefore the end.
Why is all I have left to ask, why do I have to abandon ship.
*When accidental contact of people you knew from another life time occurs what is the appropriate thing to do? It turns out on this occasion, all that's happened is a direct line of interrogation. Once accompllished, you are forgotten. The aim: to prove they're better than you and throw you back in the heap and this from a lady of the church.
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