Novembre

There at the borders
Cold and rigid guardians dressed of no life
We run and run in circles
Till the world stops spinning round
(Run in circles, and the world as we know it, spins in silence)
Till remaining breathless, panting
Overwhelmed by laughter
Starry skies of stains
Ultimately sorry
Uneducated random strokes of pain
It's a chain going backwards through the veins