Fled to Death

Bitter nothing passed these lips

as words poured towards you in silent riffs.

A melody of sour times

the money good s, the smell of muscidimes

Serene breezes flow through us

patches of pain and blue in the brush

Mountains agape and my heart does dispair 

that in this cold world ,I'd follow you anywhere

It's more than love which gases emotions

sweet nothings carried me across this dark ocean

All yours and mine we may feel sorrow

all is well in the hopes of land unhollowed.