I miss the thought of you running in my head.
The withering flowers, the unspoken words, and the charming glow of the sheer rope that connects us.
Oh you, and sheets of musical instrument.
Oh me, and unmeasurable love for the falling rain.
I wish I didn't dig the truth too far.
I wish I didn't hear you speak about Keats.
About loving everybody, and peace.
All I've got is a longing pain, and some missing parts.
I haven't been inspired since the last time we part.
Virtually. Mind to mind. In another galaxy.
When will you come and fall with the rain again?
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