With your big star, shining. Light the way. So gently in the dark. . And my window frames. My window panes. Too heavy to be numb. My hands are tied. .
Bad grace finds the reader's eyes. Keep it slow, keep it light over by the side. And it gets too dizzy when it feels too hot. And when it starts to start, it'll never stop.
By surprise the fragile fluids that were. Seem to disappear behind the eye in disguise. Or how it ought to really ought to be. Like crystal breaking in a spoon and it's too late.
On the way near a truck stop. That's behind my evil haven. There is a garden, he is a garden. . Are you mad yet? Can't connect it. When you try to do you know?.
In Corsica the engines blew. Your favorite writer died. In a car, in a crash. Died in a fire, imagine that. . In a car, in a crash. Die in a fire, imagine that.