Tag: architecture

I’m starting to believe I’m invincible
They all did their best
The world, even the smallest parts of it, is filled with things you don’t know
I do think I carried things off rather well
We just slipped off the edge of the world
Then things began to change in the house
Everyone was proud of him
It seemed to be simple, even simplistic
Well, people often don’t understand why they do things
I barely remember that life
But there was just him, and the blackness, and silence
The lost years had not proven all bad, though
He should have made someone pay attention
Are you two going to sit here all night?
After that I need a drink
I’m rather green about these things
The rest is personal, private, of no possible int’rest
But a dream is a true experience of a sort
A low mood was creeping up on him
He would have preferred a bar
She has stared out of windows more
It seemed as if the whole of the world was slowly being stripped of innocence
I wandered the halls seeking its spirits, dead or alive
To be an artist was to see what others could not
I cherished the idea that one day I would write a book
I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates
There are benefits to being of small size, after all
You need to get out there, you need to do something, go somewhere
I never know what I’m going to do next
He briefly closes his eyes and imagines smashing his fist into the nearest wall
I want you to have fun
What they did they did with no variation
When the light expired, they slept
There had to be a story
Or they will chase each other, racing up and down stairs or pounding along the halls
Let me help you while you’re in this town
His father would often yell at him for breaking a glass
And while I could have ended there I had no desire to
I need to put some clothes on or have the heat turned up
He went to the window and wanted to cry
Now come read a story with me
Machines were rumbling from inside it
I had to hold my breath as I stood there
Your soul has become architecture
There’re five or six kinds of black. Some silky, some woolly
But I need two promises. First, that you’ll be home before dark
I don’t think anybody’s here
Nothing beside remains
There was not much to say to this
She had to get back underground as quickly as possible