Blue Sky Sinking - Robocobra Quartet

Chance of clouds

I’ll make my bed with the silver linen 'til it’s my turn to lie in it:

blue sky sinking

Oh, intent and deeds — two distant ideas so tough to coalesce

An undeveloped concept: littering the road so the street-sweeper's job is kept

It feels as though the skin is burning off my bones.

I suppose I’m on fire?

Moseying toward that hint of a clue that occupies your mind for two seconds and

then disappears (that ghost of an idea)

And if that fiery ball of light decides against reflecting upon us,

we’ll be out of mind and out of sight.

Plunged into a darkness

I’ll make my bed with the silver linen 'til it’s my turn to lie in it:

blue sky sinking