A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tempered belief all this time, it seems all i've beenn doing is chasing mirages. Circe doesn't sing from a rocky island in a rough sea, but an illusiory oasis in the desert. i follow the song hoping for the cool blue of the waters i've been told of, i leap forward, sad and foolish, only to end up face down in the sand again 9:49 p.m. - 2003-08-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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