So you watch the sunrise sinking, and she's talking in her sleep.
A dream of how alone she was tommorrow when you keep all those
promises to someone in a mirror you will find at your parents'
house in 1989. terrorized by the ruling party: calenders and
commas. Small request, could we please turn around? So you
whisper your arrival walking backwards to the door. Wonder
briefly what it is you're hesitating for. All the streets lie
down, deserted in the darkest part of night, to lead you through
the evening to the light. Pulled along in thender grip of watched
and ellipses. Small request. Could we please turn around?
Send "Time's Arrows" Ringtone to your Cell 