The Ink Sinks

Laying down, the words come out of his shadow
The ink sinks into the dry bleached pages
Her voice shines in the previous pages
Faint memories make his time move again.

The vast land he walks on without a map
Nothing can be changed it's all in the past
The memory of cupping life in his hands
Taste of that fruit, laughter that lasts.

No one knew what happened to that lovely rose
No one but his old diary that kept getting heavier
No one knew him, heard him or recognized him
No one but his shadow blames him for his sin.

Laying down, the words come out of his shadow
The ink sinks into the dry bleached pages
Her voice shines in the previous pages
Faint memories make his time move again.

Nothing can be changed, nothing can end
No one but his shadow blames him for his sin.

Laying down, the words came out of his shadow
The ink sinks into the dry bleached pages
Her voice shines in the previous pages
Faint memories make his time move again.