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Satellites in Fists

Anatomy Of A Ghost

Stop to question satellites lost in vast expansions of space place it in fists finding more than we asked for 'misconceptions' reflective glance into what we should have known "it was right there."
If you could have just flown by unnoticed, unchallenged we would still have careless wonder left in our eyes now we just wait to see behind yours behind eyes these sidewalks twist and tremble under the new found failures swirls of red and gray mixtures of the brick inlay, tear the clouds bring on the rain watching faces fall everyday letting it wash them down we never thought to little just not enough so now back to present found at the tops of rock walls where the spires climb so tall the wheat fields growing all to much importance of fate, of faith bridges collapse behind us leaving no way out still lost in thought we find none of this bothersome not troubling whatsoever claim what's ours the headlights ahead are in blinking confirmation offering reassurance we were right take it back down this is me hanging from a nail, missing the broken frame and burnt edges face cut out between two worlds, the first so obviously surreal and the other so lifelike yet so dead and true but which should we choose, holding our feet, building our cities
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