Are these questions I have, dead blessings? I’m sad. out of this world, here with this girl. Ask me if there’s even a chance. like ants, small, Incase. of course, in a place without doors. But see, I’m a runner from design, legs built to run, they’re mine. In Weather indifference, muscle? There’s some. Put together for distance. cause in these days I’m become indifferent so neatly as the seas waves nearly crash, orderly, blindly, expected, yet kindly undetected. I’m gone, directed by fear. Set by and on . Far away, for if I stay. surely I drear these days, because in the summers end. the days will grow cold and this life will become old. in two months I’ll be gone, I’ll just let you move on