the gentle erosion

Thick darkness, huddled within urban wildernesses; a pretty girl marred by a shame she never intended; we tour the cynical surroundings as tired nomads follow whatever next. . . . .
Their statues remind us of heroes and myths.
Old stories worth remembering, old flags still hang proudly.
Our guests look lost, where have all the good guide’s gone?

Quick thinking, genius stored up for such a time as this
a brave bystander hurls themselves in the way; we take the time to talk instead of crashing into whatever next. . .
Their songs remind us heroes and myths.
Old stories worth remembering, old flags still hang proudly.
Our guests look scared, where have all the good time’s gone?

Stick to love, like jam on a kids face
a gentle wave of the shiny innocence we possess
we wash the shore and take back the beach making way for whatever next. . . . . . .
statutes reminding us of heaven on earth.
Old stories worth remembering, old flags still hang proudly
Our guests look hopeful, who can quell our gentle erotion?