truth of it all. . Who ever is sentenced to love will bow down as a servant of sorrow. . Searching memories of the days of light. It will kill me, even a touch of warmth. But I long for it more
on what the cold wake leaves. To be drawn across an ocean. This crooked path we pave. On earth's eternal motion. To be a servant to the slave. To be drawn across an ocean. This crooked path we
