The lines

So the stars could be grey painted of green
so the history's whore could stick with me at the geography's fields
whatever thing you live
whatever thing make you rain
maybe in the day made of waves
like red point in the wall like blood in the wars

do you change the skin with the mint?
do you change what have you found with the certains of the ground?

Playing like children in the heaven of fear
sailing in the tear in the hell of heaven

for killing the words of the world
for breaking his tongue with yours

have you ever had doubts about the light?
have you ever had doubts about the lines?

try to check the point try to use my drugs
now how do you feel?
now how do you fall?

I am a line I am ink blue
I am a mass of points