At the end of the day, we sit and we watch, watch the stars falling down, watch the love passing by. It has a speed limit in this dimension. My brother waves at us and screams in rage, we pay no attention, this moment is too precious to waste. The touch is sensational, refreshing and delivering. You call it romanticism, I call it a sound now. Lips touch lips. Hands join hands, that's how it ends, but it never ends. It never ends.
