Hold on to the thread. The currents will shift. Glide me towards. You know something's left. And we're all allowed. To dream of the next. Oh, oh the next, time we touch.
She don't wander in. Don't wander in here, she. She don't wander in here. Don't wander in here. . The direction of the eye, so misleading. The defection of the soul, nauseously quick.