The striped cloud is an omen,
who is that roaming illusive sinister host?
Excuse me while I confront the evermoaning ghost
The tree is uprooted and laid head toward the hills and beneath
The striped cloud is an omen cover your head beneath the sheets
The apartment building has been laid down on it´s side
mostly empty except a few workaholics that still reside
Deep within the carcass of the building, lamp on as if the sun never existed
The evermoaning ghost circling the sleepy ruins
The cloud composed of dark lines contrasting light ones flowing and morphing
toward the horizon
Life´s a bike and dance when emergency kicks a cane into day light sight or night time sleep
A serious ride and rhythm toward the purpose of alarm clock bleeps
Each room in the fallen tree is a mouth to tell a million tales
recorded inside hieroglyphics which sail
on the dark lines in the sky
The tree is now a bed and humans are now waking, hear their sighs
coughing and joking emergency in their eyes
The evermoaning ghost has died down like a turbine shutting off
The world awaits so hard and abrasive, compared to those sheets so warm and soft
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