Undenied

Writing lyrics for music unwritten.

Writing music for films unmade.

Writing films for audiences that don’t exist.

An ego my body can hardly carry.

An emotional depth I loose myself in, often.

A little dance that shatters the streets.

I wish my voice to echo in your ear, a little.

I hope my tears will meet your lips, eventually.

I long my hands will hold yours, strongly.

There is no way to end this, but to look at you and cry.


Portishead—Portishead