Wider Than the Frame
A thing we cannot name Wider than the frame Sitting in my chair
I feel the absence there And it's hell
Knowing of your flight
Brings paleness to the light
The days are washed with bleach
The nights are without sleep
Beyond my fragile reach:To the future blindly
Beyond my giftf or speech drag ging you be hind me
Something I can not name
The nthetouch of turpentine Wider tha n the frame everything turns serpentine
And it's hell
Autor(es): Alpine Decline