The Garden of Eden was entombed. Filled with roses that never bloomed. The same roses that were once watered, are now roses that have been devoured. Despite the ill thoughts colored blue, we were never sick of each other. No cough, no flue. This sadness is too much for trial... One could be in and out of denial, and still this world wouldn’t care. So treat it mean, stay a fiend. Smoke up the air and live the dream. And before you know it... End scene
Book available on iBooks under the title "The words of a romantic revolutionist"