Is that still you sitting on a bul
Or am i just dreaming, maybe
Not a bull after-all or is it a ho
Am i just whinnying,
Is that the end of the road

I do no not know why they lie,
I do not know why they all loathes
I do not know why they swore to lo
Not all of them, but most of them
—But don’t ever be like them, even

Why are they dressed in red and wh
A black long fur facing towards th
A gold button parting the blood an
Misery of their own existence, and
To please; they are slow nature of

If I could sleep in my dream;
Gazing lightly with my brow for a
When the snowy candles begins to w
I would sleep in peace for million
Knowing my sight will become blue

Heaven will be glad and passionate
for hell could not bare in comfort
Of some delicate souls prayer woul
So will earth cruse blissfully una
that flesh will rot with clothes,

I have seen someone today
The same one everyday
The one who would chew with mouth
The one who would laugh to every o
The one who learned about love in

A destiny must do nothing but wand
In doubt of ones approval and jot,
All that one as done and most of
What one are yet to do;
And surely stride will be exposed

I trust myself too much
That I sometimes forget how
To trust my pen.

A crooked faith with the deepest w
Immortality of conception about li
Weakest pace, slowest race.
Illegible notes with an unclear ma
Although its more revelation, appr

I Heard that New York is a great
To be a writer and London is a
Nice place to be a poet, France i
Common place to be an author
All other places are irrelevant!