Never is there a song to sing to the end

Nor is there a love to last to the end

Grey clouds, silver sky, all upside down, spinning

What else can be expected, if

you leave your arms swinging in the air

leave the life lapsing, in the sound of the wind

All the noises come to silence

All the kisses come to biterness

All the affection comes to hurt

What else then, besides

the lost voices in the air

\\Please forgive me for the unconscious status–2 Molson Ice can now deprive my sober mind.

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