WOODEN GUN

There seems to be some moment Like islets I’ll try to preserve While shadows they grow taller I disappear and only observe Pictures trapped behind my eyes Shutters closed in silence Evening walks and birthday surprises After class first taste of french science Every memory pulls you out from that fog Don’t overtake It’s his blindspot You’ll never wake And I’ll stay up Now and then you’re coming back A flickering neon from a ghost town Then I stop to not lose track There’s a burnt field on my island Decades keep on passing by Deep rooted, weighing on the shoulders But still I go back in time With nothing but your wooden gun Every memory pulls you out from that fog Don’t overtake It’s his blindspot You’ll never wake And I’ll stay up