Everything goes with
the flows, but the echo of...

Behind the curtains
of death, distance, and desire...

You must want something
really hard to become...

Victims of bygones,
the tyrants of tomorrows...

Time is the throb of
our questions in the silence...

The torn hearts of
those who fight for right is why...

In where would skies rive?
I am ardent to behold...

Life is a disease
that we must recover from...

One cannot fathom
things that are too obvious...

You are speaking and
bubbles spring out of your mouth...

Time is heartless but
its claws are not as lengthened...

We appreciate
what we have had right after...