Lavish crystalline emerald tintinnabulation as the epitome of an opening eye of a starless sky. Am I selfish for wanting to see it for myself? Though I do not deserve it, we have the rest of our lives to divulge and if you would ever bless me, to restlessly scull for who this man is and who the beat tolls. Nameless is he, clairvoyantly unforeseen unkempt uneasy earnest destiny. One day, not today, but one day. We simply have the rest of our lives.

Frolic shall I incorporate such a befitted crown unsettled by anything less than great. Softly shall it pulp like a beat to a pulse and if I can't feel it today, we simply have the rest of our lives. Mighty as it is perennial, lucid acoustic limbo—shapeless is he to be tears scouring cheeks—gems window. Today I may feel it, tomorrow I may see it, tonight I may hear it, morning I may greet it, but if I don't, we simply have the rest of our lives.

It shines bright all by its lonesome and blinds all who dare to come near. No ash rocks was leftover by means none could ever adhere, by this light steadily took over though no other may never find where? Fine dining upon this bediamonded lunar crescent looking—roaming bedsided accruing oman—honing entwining mystic cries—owning in that said scripted mind unbecoming of what it's like to look into those glistening eyes and see the world for what it is and see it for the rest of our lives.


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