Angels

Fly
      high,
angels
      in the sky.

Auschwitz

           Flesh burns,
       it sears the air,
           A horrid stench,
                   perfumes this stair,

wearing grief,
   without prepare,
these hunks of meat,

       souls declared,

Is there meaning to this madness,
          or have we fought,

                        for a moment,
                of gladness.

Clean Split

I know,
      I know,
      I Don't want you to go
                      but you must leave
               This land of make believe

Hello
        Hello
      No soundly emotion
Stone cold is reasonable option

Oh.....
        You still there,
   thin air disperses evenly,

No.....
         So long,
grasp new vectors in this ambient world,

No better time,
      To loft alpine,
   and recognize,
why mothers cry,