Poetic ANTIQUES
The song I hear is the sunflower of you on every chorus. Chandelier is made of diamonds as the horizons turn to islands, the oceans that we sail, the mountains that we climb in, flying high without a fear, never far, always near. Two legacies at large, enormous pioneers seduced by the sculpture of your heart and the statue which it stands as we become antiques in a collection made by hand and may not know enough. But I am paying attention. The mind of rage