When words fall in line.
Sad is the mocking bird the cannot sing,
Hurt is the bell that cannot ring,
Scared is the child that ran from home,
and Lost is the lover who is alone.
Why dreams my darling?
Through smoke and mirrors, prophetic winds;
cryptic logic, conscious whims.
Who's dreams my darling?
With blurry eyes and burning scars;
a dark crusader of the stars.
What dreams my darling?
Ride within your veins and skin,
poisoning the heart within.
Why dreams my darling?
Some stuff I just write.. I don't know.. It happens.
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