I never saw it Coming out of the sunlight Glorious mighty flight.
I saw your Soul in your eyes Before I remembered that I was Blind.
He never said much My hands were all that he touched Beneath the black muck.
Despondently yours Pen, paper, ink, they write true The demon in you.
There are days, and then there are *days*. The former, the kind of days one lives, and passes by with the significance of the mundane, the routine, the known, the comfortable. And then, there is the latter *days*. The kind where everything goes right. All because he saw right into your heart, and made the …
Fleur, fleur, joie de vivre The clock strikes one, two, three, dreams Kingdoms fall appeased.
There is a dark thing That leads me to fear our cries My own wrath, it dies.