In the valley of low roses,
between a wool book
and con artist ideas,
we speed slow.
We can die in an instant
between who would know
and who would care,
bashing into the unseen.
In a year or two years
and meteors,
shadow thief ideas
build our forgotten future.
Perfidious, she stays away,
dressed in stress,
I admit, I am a bad man to eat
especially with your weak heart.
the end,
the beginning.
the end.
the something foggy bright.