White dreams of sour relish four candles in VIRGINS nest Sweet rhyme of brook flows in our minds... we fly. Words in a cold frost eve, taken by the form of breeze Falling down before they get to known... the sough
Drunken by a fierce of night and some who RECLAIMED my mind The dark is longer than we thought, so cold. Black snow shall fade our shapes roots of the oak EMBRACE Sweet rhyme of brook flows through our times, alive.
A quiet pray, another day for the words that never said. November`s eve, four of a breeze for the words that never feels, Forever we die, forever disdain in WHITE dreams of sour relish. Forever white, forever night loose love cleaves to a DARK.
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