The evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming.
Movie queens diffuse into Cinema haze, while libertines read pornozines in street cafes.
She doesn't give you time for questions as she locks up your arms in hers. And you follow till your sense of direction completely disappears.
You reach out your hand, but you're all alone, in those time passages.
Nothing that's forced can ever be right, if it doesn't come naturally, leave it.
The literati in their cellarsPerform semantic tarantellas.I wish I did it half as well as them.