Soft Atlas – Calibretto 13 – letras

your ghost blowing up globes.tightening them off with an x-axis-esque c-clamp,then setting them down through the cloudsonto empty department store shelves.where they sit facing all sorts of islandsout toward dead wee-hour isles.has the earth come loose from its galactic neck beneath you.cut off above the cloudsgone let go from the space surround itdropped down done to the sun system’s floorcrooked pearl of the one universecleaved, fell rolling toward a corner of the cosmosin the blacked and quiet of come time »and you are all lamb, for this. »spring is at your back againthis time rare with your clarity…while patches of you thought wholehad turned up still.made a tar of your woeand flesh there inhave you gone half dead…yet…yet have you to let the worst most beas if it were atlas to your world of cope.and no one is out there scaredyou’d set your eyes off one the ceiling all nightin the darkthink of a song or maybe breastsor missing body parts »without a universal law there is no gravitywithout a gravity there is no atmospherewithout an atmosphere there is no chance at lifeand with no chance at life…i don’t exist. »