A.F.I. - Story At Three(37 visits)

Again and again they blend into one, We are the wakeful, wry, watchful. My father the morning pushes through moonlight love. So what's sleep? sleep. We're awaiting. I'm tired, so tired, but it seems that there's someone here with me. Deathless ones. A story at three with the shrillest of cries. My mind fights with the sparkles in the corner of my eyes. So beautiful. They sing to me their elegy. requiem. I hear the morning choir sing to me their elegy.













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