Connoisseur Phony
The raging timetable demands
his clockwork lungs to edges
and like the sun he rises maladroitly
only to lay back on his bassinet
relentlessly unbeknownst
Amidst the surfeit of innuendos
the mad shuffling provokes
and corrupts his innocuous eyes
Now he sees everything upside down
in a vertiginous kaleidoscope
where colors lost its quintessence
Hands swaying like dissonant pendulums,
heavy nimbuses upon his eyes
the torrent storm rams inside
Larcenous feet gliding downhill,
sutured chest unweaving every wink,
and like the path he dares to tread
his tongue is forked into two
abandoning only to move on,
moving on only to abandon
I caught him in the equinox,
his shadow descending to its home
and as he stared into his reflection
and gazed in the depth of his abyss
I try to feel a little empathy
but I cannot decipher the subtle morose,
I cannot touch the lonely noise
My bones shifted closer to the knives,
my effulgent rivulets ran denser
but the danseuse charade
of the myriad riddles remained
the empty chasm of this silhouette
And it cannot compensate, cannot abate
the sepulchral molt that undraped
the fog-shrouded suppressed fears
and collided with my toppling barricades
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Suitcases
I reckon in vivid pangs
like a salient entropy,
the pedagogy gnawing
in the sorry eyes
and the train arrives
confronting me with
my failures and losses
The first of the months
the weakening sanctum,
the constant rumination,
how we've been each other's asylum
now the suitcase's lock is defunct
and it is all spilling out -
I cannot hold it back
The arch your spine made
as you lower your head
on ponderous nimbuses
I was always at your back
but you never looked back
as your klutz feet escapes
from your past, your present
My sinewy hands percolating
amongst the fumbling words
your nimble silence still
knows how to decipher it all
and this belying gold
underneath the mud and stones
reminds me that we are
made of the same dreams and bones
And you, your hands behind the sun
I remember it like my own
the ashen pallor unmasked
by the summer's penumbra
How they tread what we all fear
stroking palettes, caressing words
you are a furtive cavalcade
I remember you hands
like how I remember your smile,
there were blue rivulets in them,
the tips are naked crimson
reaching past the mirage
but didn't cast a shadow
Like the bony moon transpiring
between day and night light
you reconnoiter my abysses -
a gilded debauchery
tarrying the train's clockwork oars
because the suitcase remained
broken, opened, larcenously swallowing.
poem by Norman Santos
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In An Empty Home
You do feel lonely in an empty home;
So, come outside and, let me touch your heart with my sincere love.
Toe, tow!
Lonely with the muse of your sweet love in an empty home.
Brown face with brown hair!
In the prison of ice.
You feel lonely in an empty home;
Even though, you are very lovely.
You are like the gold and silver!
But, you feel lonely in an empty home.
Action, attraction!
But, you feel lonely in am empty home.
Green eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes! !
But, you feel lonely in an empty home.
In, indicator!
So, come outside and, let me touch your hearts with my sincere love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sway
I sway with the music
its beat thrumming
thrumming
beating so loud
i can feel it in my heart
my feet stamp
my hands twirl
i sway
with the music
the words are lost
in the music
all around me
bodies swaying
like me
i sway
i close my eyes
and feel the beat
pulsing
the lights in my eyelids
glow
a myriad of colors
i sway
twirling
spinning
rocking
stampi ng
swaying
with the music
the beat
i sway
i open my eyes
to see
i am alone
on the dance floor
one minute
in shocked silence
everyone staring
i close my eyes
and
i sway
Written in 2006
poem by Margot Wolfersberger
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Nothing Exchanged
Deep in that crotch...
Those eyes.
Hers/His/Theirs.
And shifted to cast aside,
A viewed licking of the tongue done.
But they come back to catch,
Muscle tight buns.
Oh yes.
Hers/His/Theirs
And nothing exchanged,
Not even wishes...
That go unknown.
Or a boldness to stop to say,
'Here is my 'info'...
My address and telephone!
Stay in touch.
Can you make that right away? '
They stay in place.
Cemented feet,
Supporting heating temptations.
Hers/His/Theirs
They all stare but no one dares,
To approach or make a move!
Too afraid...
They may not get to touch it!
Preferring their game play,
Discreet and at a distance.
Hers/His/Theirs
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stranger Than Your Sympathy
Our shades are obfuscated by our pretense
The metallic colours of your feathers
Frolicked in blue, violet and gray
While you glided and dived in the white
Pallor of amnesia and snide
The angst on my deadpanning face
Your tongue undulating like rails
Of rollercoaster charades
And the vertiginous spiel was left
Unanswered for I was daunted
By an aversive measure against the exodus
A defensive maneuver against the genesis
In my rage, in my face, in my daze
For in the dark any silhouette is a banister
And now that I trampled again unbeknownst
Ceaselessly into your ubiquitous shadow
I saw the true colour behind the blear
The mirage of your profuse skin
A massive black hole gravid
With the mendacity opposing your words
Leaden by the weight of this struggle
In finding pathways that leads back
To your crossroads - always met
By a perfidious water
Where nothing will ever sink
How obstinate have you become?
How unyielding are your iron hands?
How selfish is your enamored eyes?
How different are you from you?
Perhaps I saw more, reeled bigger
Than what your florid tongue can guise
And with this I break upon you
Like an ancient stone erected
In a faceless void without a purpose
You were my fear personified
You were the floodgates that deluged
To take everything away from me
And whilst you roar with your revenge
I am caught in a different vortex
Calculating how we are the same
Our defenses and mendacious atrocity;
And how we are afraid to be different
And how we are defeated by this fear
Rendering our estranged sympathy
I know you pleasure to read this
I've seen your vengeance once
Striding with arrogance
Past fading faces
But I know too;
Your vision is myopic
To ever try to bend backwards
Stranger than the lack of empathy.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Chair
We sat at the table talking
when we noticed from the corner of our eyes
the door seemed to open and close again.
No one took much notice of it;
each thinking it was a draft that had caught it.
Then we watched amazed
as the chair at the far end of the room
began to move on its own.
Each time it caught our attention the chair stopped.
Turning back to our conversation
from the corner of our eyes,
we watched the chair move again.
Each time it inched closer
towards the table where we sat.
Our guests and we were hypnotised
by the spectacular of the moving chair.
We had lived here for many years
and nothing like this had ever happened before.
We all watched intently the chair
with not a word being spoken.
Whatever was moving it
could clearly not be seen.
Someone smiled and said,
“That is a neat trick you must tell us all
just how you’ve done it.”
I shook my head and replied,
“It is not us doing this.”
Faces paled at the thought
of the chair moving on its own.
The chair then stopped
and the outline of a figure appeared,
its eyes were flaming red
and it stared intently at us all.
“Who are you? ” Someone asked.
“Who do you wish I be? ” The reply came
from a voice that seemed to surround us.
You could see the fear begin to inherit everyone’s eyes
as the eyes of whatever looked around at everyone.
A crackling laughter then arose.
“Who are you? ” I asked,
“You are frightening everyone.
I tell you now you were not invited;
your presence is not welcome here.
Be gone I say, be gone and leave us in peace.”
The flaming eyes stared at me
as if to devour my soul.
Outside a lightning bolt struck,
its explosion made us jump.
When we looked back,
the chair was where it should be
and the flaming red eyes were gone.
Was this an hallucination
or did we really see a ghost.
Whatever, when we returned to talking,
we abandoned the conversation
of strange phenomena we were discussing
before our encounter.
15 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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My Little Cyclone
My little cyclone,
my little storm.
It Is autumn, again.
Its you, again,
and you have layed an unencumbered burden on me
by not forgetting.
I cant hide it,
how you've been playing around my senses lately, no,
not like allergies.
I look up to the amputated clock, see its gloomy eyes and sing to myself, rememeber that melody?
I thought I could forget.
Like clockwork you come running your dress floating above your strong legs, like flowers. returning to our fallowed out fields.
But,
You are still out there in the cold,
in the darkness which waits at my door.
The pure fire that I had made, that morning when
I left you there sleeping, has covered up for warmth.
I dig callus hands into the moist soil where we had roots,
my veins sucking up nutrients to feed my weakened bones.
Satiated, I run, with wanderlust, back home
to catch the breath you feathered towards me, with hints of oh, pumpkin spices.
You are out there!
knowing we have lived all seasons in our one,
a whole day under the sun,
a whole lifetime of everlasting moments,
closer than those dying to escape,
we have been bored with words,
on levels above consciousness, beyond common love.
bring me your delicate hands,
Because, because just knowing you are out there:
exploring, making impresions, learning,,
and inspiring.
To know I had tought you (as you say)
the important things in life.
To know that I measure my steps to the day I rest
at your gate once more,
without ruminations on the time, and you,
can bury your hands with mine.
my little cyclone
believe me that will be one of my golden moments.
I cannot, my little storm, I cannot,
rebuild without your love.
I need your hands, your arms, your eyes.
I need your your fingers,
delicately rubbing my neck through my hair,
craddling my jaw, and resting upon my chest.
Grabbing my lower lip,
your tongue tracing along the dry cracked brim, allow me.
nursing my tattered feet (my feet that are bleeding) .
I hear the beasts in the alleys, they walk not far behind me, crying.
You always seem to destroy me and I am eternally grateful.
My little cyclone. my own little autumn.
poem by Jerome Moore
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Attic Key
When the transpiration of earliest dews
Failed to staid and invigorate
The amputated isthmus of the atrium
You would blithely shun
All the lovely, saccharine bones
Even the crunchy stride
Of the svelte V-formation
Of the veering migrating birds
Paving the soggy nimbuses
Of hapless shades and parasols
For they unfurl a reminder
Of capitulating abandonments
And like a wolf without a howl
You would aimlessly amble
With feet of morose
To cave inside, distraught,
In the clandestine dappled corners
Where the myriad of the dead
And the plenitude of dying breaths
Rattle uncouthly for
A greater hunger
And in the riving of hushed comport
Of the attic's remedy
You would sulk to descry
Your maudlin heart beating briskly
Sodden from the attrition
Of the charlatan sun
Amongst the trellises of cobwebs
And shoddy bed of dusts
You would lay your empathy
And the stagnant breathing
Of the attic's clockwork verve
Would feign an assuaging sweep
To resuscitate the prattling blood
Fervently seeping through
To clutch you closer
Like a bullet darting through
The place where no one knew
Divulging its own nadir
And that was all
That your bleeding needs
To find that you are
Not yet in the bottom
Of your so called pits
And the sun would again seethe
Grazing mellifluously
The bullets buried
To your aching lovely bones
And swear and spiel a promise
To purge the bleak attic
From its latticing derision
And let the light stray and stall
When the next morning dawn
But you always seem to forget
Where the promises coiled
Perhaps, you have crucified a script
In the scathing walls of the chambers
Of the pumping mechanical valves
That you need the fathoms
Of the attic's secrets
So you would stash
The attic key
Into the pathos
Of remorseful wisps
In cases
Of emergency.
poem by Norman Santos
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Home Is Where The Heart Is
(gary rossington -- johnny vanzant -- hughie thomasson -- rickey medlocke)
Ive always lived my life like a gypsy
I cant imagine myself settlin down
So please dont ask me to give up this life I lead
cause I love to feel those wheels go round and round
(chorus)
I can see it inside
Its my heart that sees, not my eyes
And if you listen close Ill tell you why
Home is where the heart is
And my heart is at home with you
Theres a cold wind blowin and you know its almost midnight
You never dreamed it would be this hard lovin a music man
But this iron horse on which I ride Im closer its true
And its just as hard for me as it is for you
I can see it inside
Its my heart that sees not my eyes
And if you listen close Ill tell you why
Home is where the heart is
And my heart is at home with you
In my life Im always on the run
Livin one day at a time
Hold on a little longer
I dont know where Im gonna end up
Or where Ill go
I can see it inside
Its my heart that sees not my eyes
And if you listen close Ill tell you why
Home is where the heart is
And my heart is at home ...
I can see it inside
Its my heart that sees not my eyes
And if you listen close Ill tell you why
Home is where the heart is
And my heart is at home with you
Home is where the heart is
Oh ,my home is where my heart is
Oh, my home is where my heart is
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hudson
Hudson bawled loudly inside his head
As the harpoons of lightning struck
Piercing his six-inch thick chest.
He had expected the violent rasp
Before it had even transpired,
Essentially, he actually
Ignited the electrified fire;
But farcically or inevitably,
It had not kept him from turning over
To flailing into the famished sea
Of consuming ignorance
It had consumed him, especially his eyes,
Now aqueous and dithering
With no reservations for coagulation.
With such wavering and waxed vision,
Hudson had dispensed vexation
Into a twaddle tug-of-war
Between skepticism and ignorance.
He tried to outrun the asphyxiation
In butterfly-pace as he let the bleeding
Deluge and wear out, until the veins
And the valves caressing the rivulets
Of his blood would halt,
And the serrations need not to clot.
He tried to outrun his pervading nightmares,
His abandonments, his interstates,
His moon, his sun, his stars,
His one-man-bandwagon of harlequinade.
He tried to elude them
With a dragonfly's erratic flight.
Hudson had successfully left Summer,
But as he painstakingly vied
To latch its portcullis,
The whiff of Summer's aberrant
Redolence of tawny sun,
Tangerine skies,
Languid inebriations,
Warm tans in shuffling sands,
And a searing foliage
Of innocuous complacence,
Had been pulling and keeping him
From shutting the closing gate.
Relentless, Hudson, lunged
Forward towards another invitation.
An invitation to another dance
In the halls of ambiguity,
In poetries,
In subtle tacit game of charade,
In perplexity.
Autumn's adamantine gates
Beckoned a subtle hint
Of the mistral winter winds
And it had kept Hudson
From moving farther.
Autumn's portcullis remained ajar,
Partly inviting in sly
And partly halting a spider-chance.
Two rooms, both doors opened;
Two wounds, both left to bled,
Vulnerable from infections
Dabbing the serrations
With rasping sedations.
Hudson was in the sea
Of vexation.
Hudson was resuscitating
In an oxymoronic cul-de-sac;
Trapped in between two doors.
Tangled with the laces
Of the feelings of rue,
Of defeat,
Of abandonment,
Of death,
And one-sided bliss,
Of fettered bliss,
Of hollow unrequited bliss.
Hudson had lost his name
In a perpetual sunset
Between two opened doors.
poem by Norman Santos
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Revolving Doors
There was not a single stain in the horizon
When the svelte shadow of the dusk climbed,
Bulged, wrinkled and fulminated in a cloud
Shedding the unwanted downpour and
Feigning an ostensible slumber
And in this sedated quiescence, eyes opened
Eyes opened - to the cry of a thirsty child,
To the drifting lucid voices wafting with bodies,
To the chasing taillights and streetlamps,
To the maladroitly dangling pendulums,
To the unanchored claws of crows and doves,
To the final page written with ink blots;
Eyes opened to the myriad reasons
Why doors opened and closed -
For the undoing and departing
For consigning and contriving
To the earthly gods and beacons
That girdled us with hopeful unrealities
Eyes opened to accommodate the coming
Batted an eyelash to find them departing,
Curled softly then bloomed like a moonflower
Riveted in the unclosed door with chaste hopes
Eyes opened to these trivial veracities:
In these calloused world where the hinges
Are the only ones that stays in its place
We will meet again, caught in revolving doors
And eyes will open to second chances
And close to sleep with disappointments and regrets.
poem by Norman Santos
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For Freedom
A hundred pillaged days
unfolded like secrets
slowly reaching for the heart
of my penetralium
unbeknownst to the calluses
that rendered me numb
But the languid sanctum
enveloping these walls
cannot avert my rumination
because my inert hands
still sifts through everyone
and holds on the afterimage
of time and change
As the throbbing abates
inside the emergent denial
I learn to abide and
the babel of crooning voices
became the milieu
of my besieged soliloquy
The carousals sojourned
and the night fell moonward
the whim of the caprice
left the breath suspended
along with its quiescence
A trifle morose, at no edges,
for a surfeit unreasoning
I am liberty, I am adamant
my saturnalia awaits
for a bridge to a different side.
poem by Norman Santos
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We Are Countless
The furlough of the pendulum's waltz
Descanted the dreams that kept me awake
Skylarking with unnecessary words
From the mouth of a truant woman -
The woman that gave birth to the night
And its enigmatic tresses and secrets
The echoes of her lullaby left unheeded
In her deadlocked bassinet of gelid slumber
Hovering in the many clouds above
The malingering sky above our gazebo
Roofless and skinless, divulging to the stars
Closer to eternity, even closer to the knives
We quiver with every plucking lull
Ejaculating many a name for a color
In this scathed pallor of our hearts
We are yellow, we are white, we are many
And the shadows are driven away
Chased by our infinite chortles
Indulged in a saccharine dream
That intimidates the sharpest blades
So on and on, we quiver
Without the shrilling blade
Athwart our daunted necks
Our skins and bones exposed
To the unabashed exploration of depth
Until our yellow eyes poured
Into the empty basin taunted
By the soundless lightning
And faceless thunders.
poem by Norman Santos
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Ballet Lovers
Baby my
Baby. my arms
reach out to you
and enfold;
Baby I
sink into those hesitant eyes;
Baby I
feel you close
as music allows
hand in the small of your back
dizzy twirl
and then return close
short breath taken
eyes twinkle.
Baby I
feel
your thigh
rise up mine
the rustle
of your Tutu
offers too
it's caress.
Baby I
move
in dream time
and I
feel your body
offering
subtle
as your smile;
your leg
brushes up
seeking.
Baby I
move away
but too befeft
come back again
lonely like it was an eon;
and your thigh rises
having its own mind
and I complement swollen.
Baby I
dance with you
and all
flies away
as you
brush sideways
against me
exercising hidden lovers tricks
on the dance floor
and then for the lift;
I put my hand
just inside your throbbing thigh
and you rise
angel-like
on high
to fly
landing just so
deep inside my heart.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Empty (Astralasia Mix)
Crawl across the floor
If it feels like something you know
Curl up in a ball
If it feels like home
Sleep as much as you can
If you can't sleep then lay there
Pick at yourself
Until you feel pure
Something's pulling you to the floor
Like a longtime friend
Someone's banging your head on the wall
As a means to an end
Empty
Filling up with sick
Like water in your lungs
Sucking yellow fog around your head
This must be the end of you
But you know this will never stop
You can't hear anything anymore
Just the hammer in your chest
Walk on through the growing noise
Of your inescapable path
Walk willingly into the dark
Nothing can touch you now
Once you were a child
The world was darker then
Fear was in the hall
But you won't think about that now
Just some warmth and a home
And an end to the task
Your doors are standing wide open
But it's too late for you now
And although it's not quite the time
Although we've just begun to leave
We will tarry not to say we were wrong
to leave behind a silent reproach
And when our eyes are searching out
And our hearts are beating strong
We'll have a reason not to grieve
With holly leaves and scanning skies
And if the colors fade into night
And the storms our heads enclose
And our souls are set against one another
If the seas receive us not
And the skies mock our lowliness
Then we shall still love one another
For we are two, together
For we are two, together
song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep
The nights is an opaque curtain
Asleep solemnly before your eyes
Out shadowing the dark terrors
That basks in the chambers of the heart
An emollient and puissant sine
Sundering the obdurate chains
Where you contend to coil
Denser, closer to the knives
Vulnerably, haplessly cloyed and
Shriveled in the fingertips of fear
Raving in the darkness.
Look in your adamant eyes
The surface, taut, is blind
Look with your iron eyes
Where the fathom, gnarled, is sank
And the vision is deluded
Beyond repair, a lucid dream
That vied to breathe with flesh
And walk with saccharine feet
Chained in a klutz defeat
Deliberately misbegotten
Look at the myriad of faces
Sunken in a peremptory vale
Of abortive sorrows' impales
And temporal bliss' tales
And then to your riveted sole
Worn out and shuddering
To give up and to fall
Into this abyss of infinite dreaming
I invite you, come away,
To mend some sleep
And let go of vicissitude
And its impassable clockwork
Close your eyelids and
Feign a separate peace
For you have suffered long
From sleeping awake
Defenestrate your beliefs
Into the garden of lies
And they shall bloom
To flirt with butterflies
Now you're emancipated
From a putrid demise
Trust only the moon
The light in the dark
That reveals it errs
In her phosphorescent skin
Blatant and wanton
Amidst sharp and shrilling
Garrulous buds of dandelions
Whittling her ever more
More than a silver disc
But a mirror in slivers
Never promising bliss
Or perpetuity and consistency
Let her lull you, tame you
In the pedagogy of her heraldry
Waning in form and beauty
In the cradle of her crescent
Desecrate fervently
These golden manacles
Of fastidious ties
Sprawled in the galaxies
Or the sundered parties
Romantic as knives
Shall incinerate in her
Stark silver beam
And these black tears
Will dry out from the streams
That ran hurriedly
From the iron's fiendish grip
They cannot demand on you
Now, sever their cold touch
Of mendaciloquence
Before they make you bow
And submit without defense
Posses the vesper,
Usurp the calm
As you fall asleep
And rejuvenate your
Stained defiance to
False-believing,
Sleep, sleep.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now You Dont
Guess who I saw today at our favorite round the way,
So in love, and so caught up that they didnt see me,
There in the candlelight, magic sparkled in their eyes,
For desert, sexin her at the table.
I was shocked, I was so surprised,
Took some time to realize,
Cos everything was spinning turning upside down.
I was stunned I was so confused
Wondered what to do, and so I followed their next move,
Cos it was you know who.
[chorus:]
You never saw me when you kissed tonight,
You never noticed with your eyes shut tight,
You never saw me through the window steam,
Never knew I caught you schemin.
Thought that you were creepin out of sight,
Thought that you could get it on all night,
Never saw me till I hit the lights,
Now you see me now you dont.
Guess who I saw today, where we always slipped away,
In the ride, hot inside, all the windows foggin up,
From their heavy breath, makin love in silhouette,
Didnt stop, till they got to your driveway.
I was shocked, I was so surprised,
Took some time to realize,
Cos everything was spinning, turning upside down.
I was stunned I was so confused,
Wondered what to do, and so I followed their next move,
Cos it was you know who.
[chorus:]
Dont care if youre on your knees,
Dont matter what you plead,
Take a look at what you had right here,
And watch it disappear, baby.
(now you see me, now you dont, now you dont [x2])
[chorus: (x2)]
song performed by by Velvet Empire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty 3. 0
Crawl across the floor
If it feels like something you know
Curl up in a ball
If it feels like home
Sleep as much as you can
If you cant sleep then lay there
Pick at yourself
Until you feel pure
Somethings pulling you to the floor
Like a longtime friend
Someones banging your head on the wall
As a means to an end
Empty
Filling up with sick
Like water in your lungs
Sucking yellow fog around your head
This must be the end of you
But you know this will never stop
You cant hear anything anymore
Just the hammer in your chest
Walk on through the growing noise
Of your inescapable path
Walk willingly into the dark
Nothing can touch you now
Once you were a child
The world was darker then
Fear was in the hall
But you wont think about that now
Just some warmth and a home
And an end to the task
Your doors are standing wide open
But its too late for you now
And although its not quite the time
Although weve just begun to leave
We will tarry not to say we were wrong
To leave behind a silent reproach
And when our eyes are searching out
And our hearts are beating strong
Well have a reason not to grieve
With holly leaves and scanning skies
And if the colors fade into night
And the storms our heads enclose
And our souls are set against one another
If the seas receive us not
And the skies mock our lowliness
Then we shall still love one another
For we are two, together
For we are two, together
song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Capitulated
The daggers pointing up in our skies
are like hands praying for tranquility;
they jeopardize the hands in our waist
driving us to fractioned states
We rummaged through this holocaust
gushing fast like wounded blood
we assailed our hopes to war
and bludgeon our fears in celestial seas
The quartz devoured our steps
so we lose our ribbons and rivulets
and with every mile we take
we grew closer to the flames -
we thaw, we morph, we change
There's a steel in your eyes piercing
the velvet sheen I held complacently
but I stared on behind this veil
steadfastly, until I shut my persiennes
unto your pictures and absent stares
The path may repent but what can it do
when we have forgotten the shades of blue?
Whilst the sky rages on above us
I surrender to this dreadful taste
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Your Eyes
accepting all i've done and said
I want to stand and stare again
Til there's nothing left out, oh
It remains there in your eyes
Whatever comes and goes
I will hear your silent call
I will touch this tender wall
Til i know i'm home again
Ooh
In your eyes (in your eyes)
In your eyes (in your eyes)
In your eyes (in your eyes)
In your eyes
Love i get so lost, sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
When i want to run away
I drive off in my car
But whichever way i go
I come back to the place you are
And all my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway (in your eyes) to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution (in your eyes) of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, i want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat i see in your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
Love, i don't like to see so much pain
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
And all my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway (in your eyes) to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution (in your eyes) of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, i want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat i see in your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
Accepting all i've done and said
I want to stand and stare again
Til there's nothing left out, oh
It remains there in your eyes
Whatever comes and goes
Oh it's in your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
I want to stand and stare again
Oh, it's in your eyes.
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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