No one knew what was the story behind.
It'll all end up together like a book you bind.
How did it all go when it turned from white to black.
How did sleeping beauty turn into an insomniac.
A clock that does not tell time tells much more.
Playing on the field does not mean you'd score.
If all were given another opportunity to turn.
The fire that kisses your hands will still burn.
If one were to put all words in a form of numbers.
The math still adds up to a series of blunders.
A step forward will still sum up to a step back.
The perfect vision will never again be perfect.
Wonders, there are, still, of really what's real.
Honesty has left nothing but a lonesome trail.

1:27 AM