I met you in the night.
And a Danish prince came.
He a rolling dream. Us a waning curve.
My blood boils to a grand hall. Russian dressings on the walls.
Lucid and incarnations, say surreal: advantageous.
As my grandfather grins from a good, far away.
And in spots of light we sleep among the hills.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
I met you in the night.
And a Danish prince came.
He a rolling dream. Us a waning curve.
My blood boils to a grand hall. Russian dressings on the walls.
Lucid and incarnations, say surreal: advantageous.
As my grandfather grins from a good, far away.
And in spots of light we sleep among the hills.
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