So I went to the desert and I sat down on the burning sand. I played with the grains in my dried, burnt, hands. Like civilizations rising, falling, through my fingertips. I wish I can learn the default, despite these maggots on my brain. I feel the angels fly, I know about the end of time, I know where dead souls lie, even I feel the mystic fires. I know the stars begin to grow, I count the years life has to go, I know all there is to know, even the dreaded afterglow. Then I went to the sea. Then I went in waist deep. To wreck the wind from just the weave of my hand towards the east. I wish my girlfriend can be here but now she's not born yet. Or maybe she is born, a thousand years ago! I feel the angels fly, I walk the end of time, I know where the dead souls lie, even I feel the mystic fires. I know how the stars begin to grow, I count the years life has to go, I know all there is to know, even the dreaded afterglow. I laid my thoughts down, slumped my head, but I forget my parchment, ink and cellphone. Careful not to tip my head, careful not to break the bread. These laws that surround us... don't apply to me. I made that choice long ago, in a place where angels go. I floor the angels by, I know about the end of time, I know where the dead souls lie, even I feel the mystic fires. I know how the stars begin to grow, I count the years my face has known, I know all there is to know, even the dreaded... I feel the angels fly. I know about the end of time. I know where the dead souls lie. even I feel the mystic fires. I know how the stars begin to grow. I count the years my face has known. I know all there is to know, even the dreaded afterglow.