Just as the irregular stanza of longing breaks on each spell sends greeting to the faint sound of drizzle in the twilight of my waiting applies to false hope
our story as a meaningless poet swallowed when can not be hunted crashing wind crossed wound sepuing you still I miss even though the lyrics are no longer melodious and you still survive embedded in the dreams and whispers of the night
passed by the brightness of the light then stirred up the noise of the bitch
crowded ..... wake up all daydreams 