Those good intentions will they ever be used.
Or just hidden to protect id's / ideas.
The pure taste on months comes in advance this year.
Just waiting in time to be swept away.
Forget long nights where the seasons changed.
To let new mornings take control over us.
Dreams, of utopian atmospheres tend to talk to me
In my sleep.
They advance.
Through thoughts
They progress and at the end
Helplessly takeover direction.
When the light becomes green.
The pure taste on months comes in advance this year. Just waiting in time to be swept away.
forget long nights where the seasons changed.
To let new mornings take control over us.
forget the.
forget the, forget the
And i never understand