were the reals i see, was a dream
what is the rate of my will
use blind eyes and surround
invisibles must be the ones to care
i should impose silence in me
to catch deeper steps through me
there must be objective signs to express
the transfer on wrong sides
i fear, i never wanted this be
i was to born again
contrary to the withering reverie
everthing is wrong...
for lust once to be sure
maybe that would be better
a bloody tear to the funeral
here comes the rebel ideas
that end is wrong...
so i 'd get back into the dreams
that has sweet and delighting taste
a little painful optimism
i recall reals to my insomnia
all alone and saturnine
so weird to be understood
a lifelong reverie
at least to feed my complex entity
do blind eyes could see
do deaf ears could hear
to adjust in that reveire
i lay my false observation down
something weird goes on...
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