Treasure Island

Hasan Haskovic

(30.12.1997 / Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Cold, Broken Hands/You as The Foundation

Cold, broken hands
Which I used to craft my dreams
Withered, disfigured ideas
On which my world stands
Had no foundation
Before you came
No one else could
Anchor down the pain

Yet you don't believe me
When I lay my statements before you
That only at your side I feel free
That for you my hearts beat true

You say you need time
And I say you have it
'till then I'll sublime
My efforts as they become a habit

And you can know
That the way things are
Is the way things go
That I love you
Even if it rains or snows
That I'll always wait for you
Even if the cold wind blows
Never, ever will I leave you unattended
Always close

And you can know
That the way things are
Is the way things'll stay
That you're my only thought
Be it night or day
Your smile, defining signification to my depths
Is the only thing
That doesn't let me ebb away

Cold, broken hands
Which I used to hold your head
Empty, faded eyes
Which draw the attention
Away from my poisonous glands

I hold you
The foundation
On which my world stands

Submitted: Monday, June 03, 2013
Edited: Friday, August 02, 2013
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