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Where do I live, if I live at all,
Where else could it be; the Great Void Hotel!
In my dream I am milking an old cow,
From that milking I derive the only music
I know, yet do not know
Milk in copper vessels, an off-white, a green
A red, a rotten orange color
I listen for the sounds of doors;
Each one I hear is the sound of an old milking,
Rites of passage into black!
The Great Void Hotel speaks to me
As much as a hotel can speak,
If I called it atheistic; it isn't, just indifferent to everything
The place where light is pulled into darkness
Like erased manuscripts
Abandoned desires make themselves known!
Ayrıntılar için Kargo Politikası ve İade Politikası sayfalarına bakabilirsiniz.
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