Collapse can occur within time
For all those people whom one calls "mine"
Your throat gets dry as if there weren't any breeze
To carress your face and arms
Until that angry sea within you calms
These are times made out of buttons
Pushing fingers are all around
And they come,
And they push,
And then leave you bereaft and frowned
Once they dismantle your highest icons.
See that taking away hand coming in
I want those dearest eyes to still stay clean