Ordinary feet never do.
I mean give all to love until eternity is bald and old,
Give all even if the tongue is too cold to swim.
Yet I sit wondering with the radio on my skin.
I open up my wings that will hang me with a look into the future.
Have we only begun to love what we only can destroy?
Are we the most splendid possession like a baby with no name yet?
Or are we a flawless drive across a flat desert,
Towards a change in my memory where I risk forgetting repeated excuses;
Forgetting that my soul and I are divorced and argue a lot about the sky under your feet.
The fact that I do not care that I have nowhere else to be born,
But where the tracks of the angels are walking away from me.