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Repentance Of A Port Forgotten By Time By Tracey & JPR
Primal energies weave through as the ocean meets the sea. Calm waters with mad minds.
Ever-changing tides, churning the depths up and out as an unheard scream gets lost in the winds.
Towards an expanse vacant as the feelings that no longer exist yet, we strain to maintain this facade praying none may view the cracks.
Falling into each wave, begging the universe to cradle the demons within, or just aid in the escape, or simply, just simply cast them into the depths of the void.
As we await what may never return, at candlelit tables apart in spirit, occupied in form only.
The requiem of a night’s promise gone sour.
The tides move delicately, yet ever haunting is the music to resonate the wind’s continued dance of strained existence.
Etched in time, in the shadows people seek to see, the witch holds the bloody memories in a clasped hand for all eternity. The bitterness will never yield to forgiveness.
Deadlights and false fronts in a hollow seaport the light exudes as equal a warning of its inhabitants as its rocky shore’s embrace.
What was, will certainly bleed, trapped in photographs of a town.
Now, forever, out of time.
Ever-changing tides, churning the depths up and out as an unheard scream gets lost in the winds.
Towards an expanse vacant as the feelings that no longer exist yet, we strain to maintain this facade praying none may view the cracks.
Falling into each wave, begging the universe to cradle the demons within, or just aid in the escape, or simply, just simply cast them into the depths of the void.
As we await what may never return, at candlelit tables apart in spirit, occupied in form only.
The requiem of a night’s promise gone sour.
The tides move delicately, yet ever haunting is the music to resonate the wind’s continued dance of strained existence.
Etched in time, in the shadows people seek to see, the witch holds the bloody memories in a clasped hand for all eternity. The bitterness will never yield to forgiveness.
Deadlights and false fronts in a hollow seaport the light exudes as equal a warning of its inhabitants as its rocky shore’s embrace.
What was, will certainly bleed, trapped in photographs of a town.
Now, forever, out of time.
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