(Untitled)
He is standing at the top of the mountain fearing frost
Looks down at the rocks with his white finger prints
He has left his mark some where in the world
But only until the wind blows it away
Until the rains come, and the chalks dribbles down the surface until its gone
As he is sitting on the edge of what he has climbed
He is reminded with every rock ( Read more... )
Looks down at the rocks with his white finger prints
He has left his mark some where in the world
But only until the wind blows it away
Until the rains come, and the chalks dribbles down the surface until its gone
As he is sitting on the edge of what he has climbed
He is reminded with every rock ( Read more... )
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