#savagewords

He holds the number thirteen close to his chest and believes in inverting his luck. Chronic ails and failing devices blanket the time. He's so late to die. I'm unpunctual, and yet -- beg to wait as long as we can -- I cannot leave a day before or a minute late. We clutch little vials of time together, the possibility of a house hidden in the hills, and dream of clean slates, clean bodies, and moments that last longer than they feel.

Gazing upon Edo Cyprus rows shrouded in an ermine mantle

on silver birches, snow faeries doze laughter rings as crowds untangle

emerging from soft amorous spring beneath the surface, undulous heaven

cool shoulders await beloved young king fresh year to bring a shy obsession

new selves rejoin, anointed in ardor hallow setting teeth to languorous tune

phantasmal victory, met under weeping sallow distant ceremony -- above hangs the moon.

As true as love and right as rain, let's hope the stars will light our way. As my feelings are as hot as pain, as true as love, and right as rain. Every loss can be a gain. After the night will come the day, as true as love and right as rain. Let's hope the stars will light our way.

It is better late than never. Otherwise, don't even bother. Though the place may be wherever, it is better late than never. Don't make others wait forever, you should treat them like your mother. It is better late than never, otherwise, don't even bother.

I said, you can say that again. But this time not under your breath. You spoke about what happens when - I said, you can say that again. Don't think about dying, cause then you might manifest your own death. I said, you can say that again. But this time not under your breath.

Some people beat around the bush. While others try finding their roots. Some people need a little push. Some people beat around the bush. They stay seated on their tush like they're scared of dirt on their boots. Some people beat around the bush. While others try finding their roots.

The sky was golden, it was good that day.

We saw a fox stroll into the woods of gray.

The sun was closing and we couldn't stay.

I loved you then but I would not say.

The sky was golden and we were both okay.

They asked why, I told'em, "there's no other way".

The cards you hide, I show'em, in utter display.

I'm going to climb into the open, starting today.

The sky was golden and we were both okay.