Every Panic Tell

Every panic tell A drop of trust is left to bleed The transfusion is incomplete Danger coming come And then in an whisper recedes. It was only rumor of his coming I was not surprise History is a movement of feelings The way on enterprise dominates another I think the market forces has quite Worn their predictability out The Mayan calender of twenty twelve Is also a muted mouth Someting is consolidating though The beast about to be transformed There will be no more bleating Science cusping the reborn Old habit I just love looking up at the sky.