When the danced become editorial,
And the sun is deepened with its strokes
When a whiplash of fire traces us back,
I will always have a conscience.
Even when the remotely curious narrators and end time machinery visits a metropolis,
The variable I had when I kept my reclusive efforts to save you,
The good deed will make you smile.
If I charitably rescued a vampire from a hellfire,
If I made lips cease movement
Then I would ask the same of no dead script,
the same is true for you.
We walk two different paths,
Maybe the sun goes to my back while in your moment, the sun is directly facing you.
No utterance of faith would surprise me if it were of you to seek out an uncanny relationship to keep score.
I didn’t travel east, I sought west.
The perseverance of the strange is strange.
The liquor cabinet of the boneless body repeats strange phrases,
But however often we seem to get pushed by the Romantic spirit of the buried ages, the world still looks buried under the garments of defenestration and unease.
Come with me,
Rebel against the scorn of deviance.
Ask the ground to move faster
Redeposit shyness back into existing quirk and lucid direction.
The fairest heart doesn’t stop beating
And the naval of my seeking body does not remember its protection.
Now it is time to protect.
To unlock the secret passages of time so that the usage of strain and restraint will be aboard with the study of art.
The once acquainted said in passing,
“I’ll be your ship,
you my moor.”
As long as we don’t enter subterranean climate where Volkswagens drift into the passing lane,
And (then) I can still be your keeper of oddity.