• Patterns become flawless
    In times that are tangled
    Sweet mother
    You gave this to me

    Everthing becomes glazed
    When your eyes
    Fall into the dark
    The dark place I dream of.

    How can a dream
    Be something you imagine
    when everyone is more real
    than they could ever be in life.

    My speech is slured
    But listen
    Im saying something
    The importance of it is endless.

    Waiting is an agonizing end
    To what was built
    In a life made to be lived
    How could it ever be gone.

    And when will it be over
    The waiting
    For the end to change
    This is all that is left
    stare