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Layers Of Generation Without Number
In The Parallax Of Your Gaze // Vivid
Wait For The Howl Of The City
Whirl // A Stream Of Comfort, To Cool And Surround Me, Untill I Lose Sight Of My Own Defeat
Coarse And Wild As The Cement Of Your Broken City Crumbles
Clouds Are Parcelled Out Across My Vision
..., As You Glimpsed The Line Of My Shoulderblades
Counting Out Horizons In Discrete Steps
Balancing // I Am The God Of Small Change, Scamming My Way Through The Future
Revolve In The Sun // My Footfalls Are Superfluous
℗ 2010 Bichi // All rights reserved © 2010 Dead People's Choice
