The way you used to look at me,
Seems like it will show me a,certainty
Of our substantial existence, but now everything will be said in the past tense
On how was this buffled soul focused on the enigma of your gentle voice and caress,

The picture of your face is painted on the thorn and blisttered canvass of my subconcious, the blurriness caused a dogma on how i see,perceive and perfect the idea of primates how they've turn black to brown to white and lure the lady wolf into his den to devour her with it's sweet sweet whispers and talks,

Snortning chalk to make you believe that a Supreme being does exist, for him to be your world of wherein you won't be able to resist, for each and every second and hours passes by, that makes that green botton alive for the primate will never say goodbye, curses have summoned by an old man, who brought the wolf into this lands and does not want a real man