My days are winged and nights girdled with dreams; for Kahlil has an eloquent tongue and mine never is.
I paint to paint the blue of my dreams.
I can't cry blue tears, but I can paint them and so I did.
I can't,
I can't cry blue tears,
but I can paint them,
I can paint them and so i did.
I paint to paint the blue of my dreams.I can't cry blue tears, but I can paint them and so I did.
Reality was floating away, evaporating, escaping my conscious realm.
Reality was floating away,
evaporating,
escaping my conscious realm
I can't breathe.
I can't.
I can't breathe, the air is dense.
The air is so dense.
Smoke everywhere.
From the effigy of my innocence.
From the effigy; of my innocence.
The brush has stopped,
the brush has stopped.
My days are winged and nights girdled with dreams;
for Kahlil has an eloquent tongue and mine never is.
New beginnings, new days, new dreams, new fears, new screams.
Old screams.
Old screams.
It's all echo, nothing remains.
Then it starts filling up again.
Now my head hurts.
Sometimes the right half,
sometimes the spot just above my neck.
Keep going forward they said.
West is a good option. You see, it's darkest where the sun sets.
Or so i'd like to believe.
But I don't, not really.
Darkness, Still has hope.
Even if, just a little bit.
I have none left in me.
I Wish,
I WISH,
i wish.
It was all echo.
I wish it was all echo and nothing remained.
My days are winged and nights girdled with dreams;
for Kahlil has an eloquent tongue and mine never
*concept, shot, scripted and edited by SukhMehak Kaur*
* special thanks to Anubhveshvar Manna :) *
