Voices of the Unheard

Old memories...

Old memories...

Rotten away behind old stop signs we quietly search for a calling.

As if humanity has a telephone line.

As if anyone would answer with the cure.

Chapters taste like old bread left on the porch after hours..

And goodbye's seem sweeter the second time around.

Even when we never intent to greet their hello the next time around.

Mere delusions and illustrations often dance perfectly to this tune..

But even if i were lying..

I would still reply that i miss you..

Not that i'm trying to fit in..

Simply because i never want to forget you.

- Mello Sakia