Prajna Garba

Capital in Paris. Where you find your dwelling
You tease me with your insides
I am a flea upon a pedastal with your collar around me
The trees have since withered away from the last time you were here
But the councelor's tale still emanates
the musky air is hollow, like a birds blossom
My mother is lost to me, in my heart and soul
I call out to unveal the mask but it is too early
and Doves awaken holy sacrament
causing a commotion

The headache of self righteousness continues
in blister and in heat, the wrongful doing i have caused
has come back to haunt the ghost
You are nowhere to be found and in a birth of new awakening
i realize you never were.