facsimile

[cacian]

lying about thinking of you
is just another something to do
I try and swing ideals on you
but naturally my mind has freed
it gives you up as far as wind
and spins me views, another world
scenarios fit for queens and kings.

Sitting around reading of you
it feels like steel, heavy and dim
I skim the words it's slow gone dense
are you a script fiddled with lisps?
Is a million dollar question boom.

walking about wondering of you
I serenade, my thoughts are few
nothing is said, none of it means
clarity is obscured by such of you
Agendas melt, cubric is bricked
selffless I feel
my will is fixed.

Walking about speaking of you
sound like placidos dormant and fake
I try and grab a single vowel
It trips and slips, I can' t pursue
I give it up my sense prevails
to chase a rust with a silver brush
Is pointless task against a fact.