1900
1
To invite U on my blanket and share the dream imagined,
I have to March with the desperate blends of aiming,
To flip the goals of what U do behind the house of green,
The silver and the gold of bells leave your tiny body scene,
The miracle on 34th strictly can serve as a reminder,
Some things are shorter to revenge the aim of the steady climber,
It is not your hair, or the way they brought U to me,
It’s the final call of your reasons U see the clips of grieving these,
No one is to say that the haul to chop an Oak is terror,
But submerged in this raid of the ark is the holder my jump is better,
Violence alone is the solidarity of my mark,
In-between what U say tumbled away in missing stable parts,
U R no different than the Mother that monitors the T.V.,
Behind closed doors U cant stand a chivalry,
You’ve earned the majority of having the boos no one else had,
The purse U give in exchange for the silence of your lamps,
This new technology I wonder where would I start,
Running up to U in the evening of the park,
Still U have confessed that u lead a cordial life,
A fantasy today we huddled,
Later the key we sliced.
