Ideas writhing Perceptions dissipating Burn marks serve as the reminder Truth has no measure We just dance until we grow old And hang our heads in sorrow Hoping we've found an answer
I can't recall familiarity with words and structure to organize my tolls, my responsibility, regret, my chest can be powerful, but cripples. Communication can be corrupt.
I've said so much. Do you think we'll ever go back? On top of a full glass, there is wisdom.