...Black clouds
overcast
silhoutte of the Sun
there will be no
meadows to sing
no flowers bloom, no
butterflies to strap its wings
A bullet ride to
insanity
and it gets worse
in the morning
Squeeze the bottle
there may be a few drops
left
It's a shame...
we only have one road to
bore us
Though
the field is more appealing
and perhaps we
have a chance to wish for
the moonlight not to
fade...