Off the lights!

Your hands in air of delusions and my they figure constellations... A moon that stays and those whitish lines on the roads! They slither and fade...

Home sweet home

What price do I owe you to find me my home? No, not the price for luxury, the price for peace. Or we can compromise with no roofs at all? Or even no walls? To be wrapped all over in the fragrance of the soil and to sleep with a starry sky above my head. Home sweet home... Have I found you yet?