Guitars are climbing to the peak
and the vacancy increases.
She stumbled in the stairs
Blindfolded, chasing a melody of sorrow.
Every unfound thing accumulates into a treasure.
Pearls and gold, null and void;
What we are chasing is dust.
Idols are made.
Made to immerse.
Devotion breaks into molecules deep beneath the waters.
Highs and lows.
Lows on the top.
We have destroyed ourselves so much
that a little more makes no difference.
What is in the menu-
Some poison you can drink
Whiskey that promises to work slow
with all due respects to time.
A rope, a ceiling;
Indifferent to death or rain.
Would you love some dessert?
How about a meeting with God?
How should death be served to you?
I see no stars now.
I have no wishes left
She had stumbled in the stairs.
Last time we were together.
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