Nov 7, 2025
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I want to thank Wafia and Vancouver Sleep Clinic for helping me go through those months of emptiness.Â
I drown in the oceans That keep us apart Mapping distant stars Oh their voices call me To the shelter of your skin Where the end begins Oh I'm fading through Oh I'm fading through Nothing left to do And can't you see it was all for you? I'd climb on rooftops To catch a glimpse of the moon A fading trail of you A mountain of effort And a wall of prayer But this war is to the death Oh we're fading through Oh we're fading through Nothing left to do And can't you see it was all for you? Can you make this new? Can you make this new? Body crumbles to dust But I can't lose youÂ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Song of the Week (Revamped) #2-Fading Through by Wafia Ft. Vancouver Sleep Clinic
Song of the Week (Revamped) #2-Fading Through by Wafia Ft. Vancouver Sleep Clinic
Song of the Week is a weekly meme of some of my current favourite songs or songs that I can’t get out of my head. Leave your favourite songs and I’ll be sure to check them out.
With a unique, versatile voice combined with lyrics that possess a powerful, universal quality that ensures audiences catch their breath, Wafia is a nineteen year old music-maker, heart-warmer and soul-pleaser. Her…
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Oh, I’m fading through, can’t you see it’s all for you!
Fading Through
There are people without a heart, many. Many hearts without blood, too many. Too many empty heads, full of mouths, like socks and pockets full of holes. Black holes and agonies of different colors, painted over perfect whites, heartless and indifferent.
A clock that does not tick, and it gets late. Too late to forget that sarcastic and disbelieving deconstruction that has been installed in your head, like a hoax that preserves your failures, each stored in individual glass jars, labeled, dated and classified on the shelves of memory.Â
A memory without dreams, because they have been buried in a nearby paradise. Fighting a constant battle of thoughts. Unfolding a mastered deception by discovering an ineffective ability to hide discomfort. Looking back at that same clock to realize that time was, is and will always be eternal, inopportune, punctual, or simply a consciously late moment.
© Pocochon