A bright star will shine over the good and the bad
While I'm still just glad that you were never a gamble
A false preamble that it was our decision
Taken with rough precision by the random hands of humanity
When all we needed was clarity in this mess rivalling God's
With luck of the sod still plaguing our moves
Nothing here proves guilt quite like the shame
Of losing a game where you were always ahead

Back when your words were mine hurricanes blew
The South wind and swollen lungs too pushing the storms away
Bringing forth the brighter days of fun and laughter
We could've won a bafta for the parts we played
A debt yet unpaid as interest rises
Taking on new guises to flee from what will follow
Gorging like a swallow on all that's around
Never once touching the ground to see where we are

Random poem.
C4C, naturally
Last edited by Potski at Jul 30, 2008,