Impersonating the withering time spent in vacant prisons
None would heed the grief of the comatose televisions,
Seething silence, and things crack to pollute proceeding eyes
Of fishnet and waves conjured in the restful realms

My love for daydream is as much as nightmare
Neither it is in the day nor after horrid nightfalls
It is better to dream of horror than to dream of none
And to lavish the physique in mental salvation

In our daydream we still wander around
Chasing apostles and romance of ancient times
As for the dark dream in our mundane rest
Never get us to the eluding tide of winfer fire
Not even the embalmed hail of summer’s sweet liver

Of course, we know the pleasure of staying the night and burning shadows
Temperate, just like those faithful moments before we drown
Some might enjoy its darkness as it falls out of grace
Like after halos are dimmed, those are the reason the stars descend

Even the giddy stars would at some point come to a rest
Even if you have the power to shine as bright ever after
Please save ourselves from impersonating immortals