Patterns connect the red-starry skiesThe shadow of an evening calm surfaces while I close my eyesThe warmth came along and I trusted its voicePile up my thoughts on exploited sceneryThe eyes sense the warmth of regretsrespected ambiguous word harbouredthe sealed look has vanishedsmell of the burning of nightyou once were a vision but you have recovered over the daysand learned the whereabouts of an inverted futureA gaze passes into oblivionLines of people block my sight aheadProof of the days of consolationWords of admonition in many waysSeven voices I carry descendingI tip my shoe up but the contradicting guidance still does not change.Light and darknessSunlight and the sound of the nightDark sky and the sound of the nightThey all passed us by and are ahead of usA drop of rain announces the beginning.

Hands line up full of silenceLake ashes they flow away unrewardedWe are here as much as we pile them keeping our eyes wide open.We think and start to spinknowing a small world exists.Form and shape with light and shadow which only truth can have.Tomorrow’s sunrise coexists with demands.Ahead the night you learn hesitation where your cold hands are.Bottom of your mind follows the meaning of birthPutting my wish on a song I sink and wait.Where does it end up? Is it where you are?A face we are there. A fact we werentTrue reason gets ahead of a follow concentration.In constructive wordsthe beginning of a heartbeat tells the meaning of creationEssential work necessary to see the daily gazewe imagine the history of a wish and then make one.Everything has become a toy. With vague resistancewe make stories of denial thoughts and destinies.Things we wanted will never be given.Crying minds wont be supported.We just see them off from behind.Even the least beauty weve lost has retreated.Ask for collateral to the place where salvation once existed.Poetic-structural rhythm warped and burst.Echoing sound of a whistle shows a screen of a sound scale.Speed of the swing goes along rainbow strings.Multi-coloured lungs are on the studded tune.Received and opened the unfinished scenario inside of the mind.Decadent disks we comprehend after pretendingto wait. The face Ive been waiting.The real reason is the weight of an empty palm.Give a sign of welcome-home. to a question going home.Your time connects to transparent colourless letters.I wrote down the sweet encounter ahead of a reverberating tone.Our letters that remained unopened. I burned them.To write. The face I’ve created it.Minds Ive learned overflow from the gap in drops.Give a light and solitude of I’m home to a question returning.Etched a tender good-bye on a window with traces of a returning voice.Hold the present time. Stack it up.Go beyond the times. And return to the future.Miss the present time. Create it.Leap the times. And learn the future.

At the awakening I set my thoroughly exhausted bodytoward the direction I plan to walkA quiet ideology is now merely a containera fill it up with ephemeralnessI connect an exchange of meanings toan unstable expressionWe walk through the same abyssThe place we return to is the experience 0 and 1An external pain my body feelslifts my internal imagination to the topdeparture has been ripped upby the only abstract word to an outward lifeA difference and an impulseMovement I lose is for the formationthe world of darkness goes back to a dreamthe end of an exclusion to part without asking for consentA proper function broadly displayedThe visible times equals everythingThe perfection and passion scraped the outlineThe poetic song is a hope for a change

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Christina Lyrics

Q: A Breath Clad in Happiness

Quiet beating at night gropingly formingmorning sadness into a water spriteInnocence abruptly brokensitting on the end of a night like melting abyssBackground switched. An expression crouchesin the town clad in happiness and in the fragrance of noonSwore I wouldn’t wait anymoreDespised methods and the sky of screams flow outDefend on With no stain.How graceful. Your night is.The road is dark. It goes all the way.Your face is. So untouched.Empty scars on a cracked ornament.Formlessness we eat and take in forever.Sand I grasped turned into innumerable feathersOverflowing dead mansdreams have burned.Summon the hidden bodies.Silence of a dark night was bornPile up the words like the falling rainSounds of dripping and hope of this worldLook up into the cloudy sky in a cold dayA singing voice in the afternoon talks to usAsk the slow wind a questionA rutof a stopped wheel passes us byWish to be foundNoticed the memories of a friendBoth feet are cold.Stare at the accuracyinvented the end of the sirenBought the solitude I thought of youReceived the solitude And I smiledLooked at yesterday I talkedDropped my voice. And I wore you.Melting thoughts and the sound of time gone madthe world of metemsychosis repeats itselfAs a question sinks and hidesI rollup my thin finger of virtuethe flowers of hope have witheredStains blend with thousand seasonsThe colourless moonlight the wind carries isa light source of a winter when ashes flowWaves invite you to a painful breathInvisible uncertainness anda fragrance of spring are drawing near.

Lyricist- Jonathan Baker Gerald Alexander

Artist- Keith Murray

Album- He's Keith Murray [Clean]

59 0 0

+10 pts

5 Star Rating 1 Rating

I'm always getting shitted on son, ain't gonna be no, no different Can you accept me as I am? I ask you Always, the love lords? I need you Can you open your heart to mine and accept me and all my faults During the human course activity, watch me give me my room I am radiant, give me my space, I am l ...

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Posted on 25 Apr 2025, this text provides information on He's Keith Murray [Clean] related to Jonathan Baker Gerald Alexander. Please note that while accuracy is prioritized, the data presented might not be entirely correct or up-to-date. This information is offered for general knowledge and informational purposes only, and should not be considered as a substitute for professional advice.

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