The Blase are Kicking Arse

from by The Quickening



For twenty something years I walked by numbered days; through streets that others named, with maps that others made. Hold on - behold to what, you ask? Your fear is that you’re more than you thought you are (and now ‘you’re’ nothing). As night breathes into day on the banks of twilight streams; cupped hands, tentative sips, it tastes like childhood dreams. The fire was contagious, it licked at the sin. We loved our gold cages but we can’t crawl back in. How the fire was contagious, our flesh burned from within...and the storm just kept raging, never to be subdued again. Our Death lies on the horizon. We sail meet her there; abandon fear.


from White Blossoms, released April 5, 2009



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