Once, all the stars in the sky were bright, now they`re red and fading and all the colours we wore, the shades that we bore have moved. And the gold turns to red with no time for changes : Red Shift, all moving away from we. Once, constellations were holy, now darkness pervades all the older ones and in the brunt of implosion, all yesterday`s golden now reddened suns .... and hope is a word with no space for blame in --- Red Shift, displaced now in time and relativity; Red Shift, all moving away from we. So here I am, though I might well be with me : I`m falling down deep to the rim of the wheel. Is it sham? Does the world have a meaning? The more that we know , the greater confusion grows : stars are like atoms, and atoms are patterns and probably in the end : `Maybe its all been a dream ....` Time locked in negative matter, all theories shatter beneath the weight. Happy is the man who believes that the world is a dream and all reason, fate. Time moves on with no time; the eye moves on with no rhyme, and I`m a song in the depth of the galaxies --- Red Shift is taking away my sanity; Red Shift, all moving away from we ....
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