The messenger is old and grey. And when he sets up - decay. And everything looks the same. Nothing is ever rearranged. Everywhere I look. My angel is broken.
how many fantasies. were interrupted by. a hundred galaxies. that were drifting by. the mona lisa's got you (all). how many poverties. were interrupted by.
Is your love worth the nausea it could bring?. Is your love worth those you left hurting?. Is your love like a thousand bells ringing?. Is your love bright like a shining golden ring?.