pont notre-dame (original song) | isabela angus


i talk to myself as i walk down the road
deafening silence in the din of light faces streak by, blurs of black and white
on a grey casted city built for clouded skies rooms crushed together in stacks of 6
the tell tale heart of the artist sing to the walls and the mice inside
and beyond leak your secrets into strangers’ minds where to find a private place to lie?
to find enough chaos for the noise to turn white? brave through the storm and walk through the wind look down for the hurricane’s eye

3 comments

Leave a Reply