Post by mfwilkie on Jan 16, 2008 21:35:04 GMT -5
First Revision
The mood in this new hour has turned to stone,
sending up walls within walls within walls.
Reason has come to deal—with endings, with
beginnings—where quiet is time's only grace,
where the lyric cannot breach the element of pain
and deny it its place, its sorrow. This is the moment
within when life faces death, and decides.
Original Draft
The mood of the new hour has turned to stone,
sending up walls within walls within walls.
Reason has come to deal—with endings, with
beginnings—where quiet is the hour's only grace,
where the lyric cannot breach the element of pain
and deny it its pounds of sorrow. This is the moment
within when life faces death, and decides.
The mood in this new hour has turned to stone,
sending up walls within walls within walls.
Reason has come to deal—with endings, with
beginnings—where quiet is time's only grace,
where the lyric cannot breach the element of pain
and deny it its place, its sorrow. This is the moment
within when life faces death, and decides.
Original Draft
The mood of the new hour has turned to stone,
sending up walls within walls within walls.
Reason has come to deal—with endings, with
beginnings—where quiet is the hour's only grace,
where the lyric cannot breach the element of pain
and deny it its pounds of sorrow. This is the moment
within when life faces death, and decides.
