(Our Alien) Millenium - Dust

We gather in the mud to get our allowance

Sometimes we just don’t mind about the wicked shades of our goals

Drowning our eyes in the lens of a camera

And scanning the objects with our voices tired to work

The letter you wrote me hasn’t arrived yet

So I’m pledging my brains to the pages of a scary dada poem

Your favourite shirt of mine left in the launderette

It won’t be worn the day of your return

You know

I poured on a carpet

All your fears

And tried to keep some certainty for all our years

Our alien millenium.

a thousand terms

Our alien millenium.

we're sorting out a thousand terms