Too much fog spins
around the head, the old
gate at the mist
I see the dancing.
A vision of a ghost above a nearby hill.
Even if it is in your memory, longing
human skin?
Melancholy power grab,
and the night the dogs will bite tails.
I do not know anything,
I have to look at everything
Knowing all durable
Lady Fortuna. Your
old keys are still
on top of a dresser, a time fade
already out of the photo colors.
Where hourglass sand flow
be slower than you,
and women anti-wrinkle cream
hide. A man with gray
her hair puffed up.
And yesterday's tomorrow
go into hiding, says
but, Run heels
there is a causeway,
yes swamp position for tomorrow
although sometimes marsh tea
fades away.
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