green time from BURIERS by BURIERS

in the green time, through it all. try to find mine through the fog. try to be light through the daylight. then we ran some. then we ran some.
in the green time, through it all. try to find mine through the fog. let it go to seed my friend. let it go to seed. then of course it fell away, just like it always does.

greenery, furl away like flames over stoic face of an era busy being. lesson learned then forgot again. mist upon a glen in a pencil drawing over weeping queen in a regal gown made of escher steps, in a spiral howl of pastor’s limoland. hand on beaten dog, pocket sundial and a fresco showing shadow long. wish you could have been there too, counting all the still in between the space and all the leaping flames in sand on the back of hearts like a marble floor. assassinated in a screaming crowd of fools. time is good, then gone. did you have a void? pretty riso little printing of a roof in a loud speech, cut and stuck beside residue
of basic flying stones.

beside a quadrangle the scene came alive. green. dark the way difference offends. slow dancing alone on a bench in a borough down south. how you done thinking you did?
you pleased? to speak of a flame, a fabric, a father of fathers, a falling, a fade to pitch. if you liked that you'll love this; how to study a modern magazine, how to screengrab a selfie, how to
be a big deal; feel worth it and charming, as endearing as a conveyor belt, as well loved as a drug addicted former child star. passing a mannequin made out of grey steam. flame atop babbling brook in a book about playing a role in a smouldering mess. how you done thinking you did? you pleased? to speak of a flame, a fabric, a father of fathers, a falling, a fade to jet.

• Folk
• alternative
• spoken word
• London