A dynasty at my fingertips
A foreign country around the corner
Ten thousand constellations revealing themselves at my glance
At my leisure.
That stale barley nostalgic taste
With soft serenades in the background,
A lament on the horizon.
And nicotine to steady my hands.
Now there are smiles, the ones we talked about before.
There are little demons lurking the corners
Undefined and territorial
New, terrifying and lovely.
Something I can call my own.
