It’s the dark side of the moon
Signals lost until an Empire’s rise
Unless seen it’s not heard
No touch in stay, it’s the modern way
The shine has gone
A passion replaced
Though an arms length on Dracula’s couch
Just a gentle touch, yet a thousand miles away
Glass walled separation in my mind
I thought of lips many times
Sunday sunset’s cosy comforts away
Empty space, Shiraz and malaise
It’s me, it always is
A mature disease in fear of everything
Contentment paradox in a world of alone
A host of sadness in crowded smiles
Cure’s needle is the invisible haystack
Engulfed in the swirling maelstrom
On a melting island of ice
I’m blind to the peaceful sea
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