Circle Of The Angels

Sometimes I stop to wonder

who'll die before,

whether the wind or the sun

the sea or the rain,

the fire of God...

My nerves, under pressure.

I keep silence while a new zoo

begins to move once again,

absent-minded, incoherent,

loose and ignorant, as is its custom.

Perhaps nobody has noticed me

but one day more is so hard to bear

and in the dark they still can perceive all

they might report every thing they saw.

But their lips shall stop

and their spit keeps on shining

along with the stars.

Streets now empty have lost their breath,

memories are far-off

and the few folk remained

don't mind about that,

as if a cloud would haze

the whole horizon.

Another dream, silently...

it's only another dream