a quirrel or thoughts
upon a broken loft
i wont even bother to find the needle......
my heart grows soft
all the tears ive bought..
oh i think this might be fatel...
with a gasping breath
and a wish of death
maybe ill find myself within your lies.
it seems ive lost myself somewhere on your crossing lines.
under the black sky where we can seethe red of lights
i ...

 
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