Same as yesterday,
A ruthless beg at the morrow,
For trees and colors of light,
That stream through murdered pasts,

Twlight breathe,
Of longer passions,

Vertigo isolation,
She's running the mill,
She's always so cold,

A scheme against the day's blight,
A force of lonliness,
Abide,

Maybe treason and reason,
collide like intentions
prevent the confiding belief,