and then the pigeon came with questions...

I've become a shadow in the stream of light that used to be my life.
Each path i take its seems to me's the reason behind each mistake.
When i close one door, im left in a hall with no more doors or windows.
As autumn drifts by im left in the pool of leaves .

The pond is dry, the fish are dead.

Not one listened to a word i said.

I'm swimming in the night and im blinded by the stars.
I just can't see the sun for looking, im drowning im drowning.
I see a glimpse of the world ahead but i have to pass this level first.
Too hard, too weak, to finish the hour, the day, the week.

Painted up, my eyes are empty.

It's now clear they could not see.

Crawling along, in my bubble of ink, white eyes eager with delight.
Theres a dove and its flying, its landing on my bubble.
It see's me clear, my hurt, my pain, my sins the trouble im in.
But i forgot ive have no sight, this dove i see is merely a pigeon.

Cold me, with a warm heart.

where and when did this all start?

gsdoih

And then the pigeon asked me why i roll alone in oil?

And then the pigeon asked me why i can't see beyond my world?

I said dear pigeon for i am in mourning, i'm mellow and meek.

I said dear pigeon i know not why, i guess its not been my week.