One naive piece
Of fragile and butterflies
Wasted upon willingly

On the loneliest rail and road
Is where I could see the foggy mountains
As on the trip I stare at the most smoky sky
Is where I could feel my mind at peace and calm

Of questions and imaginations.

On the widest field of grass, being greenish I layover
Is where I could see a figure of your perfect look
As the stars beaming down and as the moon illuminating away
Is when I feel like my heart beats a pound and my chest pumped a gun

Of butterflies and flowers.

And in the deepest hole of heart
Is where you unfold your love and passion
As you're lying down unfurl your affection and addiction
Here I'm sitting, giving, sharing, and holding

*On hopes and an unstoppable benediction.

How can we stand
Upon a regulation of fraud
Under the humbug that they've brought?

How can we uphold
Upon a tree of partisan
Onto the product of corruption?

How can you be sure
Upon a protest of desolation
Won't exist at the end of endurance?

How can you be sure
Upon a traitorous of dissatisfied
Won't happen underneath the self-evident of consumption?

It was dark, deep and wise
A pond of thoughts poured with pain
A man, who tried to walk out of a landscape of disguise

There was a note
Left unexplained, messy and wrinkled
That desires smile, talk and action

But the pencil is broken
Into a piece of selfishness
Cracked, burned and unwritten

Somehow he knocked
Somehow there's answer
Somehow there's none

It was filthy, beautiful or even cruel
Lost in a snap of fingers
In between imagination and existence