20 February 2013
Daisies fall As winter stole summers thrill. Long nights Of missing your perfect will.
Morning light As the story grows ever old. Icy heart Your voice everlasting cold.
Broken wings From butterflies sitting still. Black eyes So here we are destined to kill.
White rooms Gold trade for my body sold. Tremble close My ghost left on yours to hold.
When It Comes Clear • Opuss № I