A tree, a bird
I stir the word
with melancholy and sulfur
Take it alcoholicly, don't suffer
I prefer openly
not to discuss matters
It dissolves the matter
that makes me human
a little sadder
Tears, tea and tranquil times
before the spring sun shines
I shiver and sweat away
this god forsaken day
forsake forsake forsake
fates fatal rake
blood is purple in vanes
the Question still remains
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