We are flowers in the mud, baby. But if you look up you’ll see the sky is a lake, where we can wash our feet and follow the sun, back to the beginning. If you empty your eyes you’ll see it’s not too beautiful, that every life is worth as much as the precious wing of the moth at the candle. Let’s run then, before our backs are burned, before the dust covers the faces of the angels.
Running From The Angels
Running From The Angels
Running From The Angels
We are flowers in the mud, baby. But if you look up you’ll see the sky is a lake, where we can wash our feet and follow the sun, back to the beginning. If you empty your eyes you’ll see it’s not too beautiful, that every life is worth as much as the precious wing of the moth at the candle. Let’s run then, before our backs are burned, before the dust covers the faces of the angels.