It's not so much a storm,
But just a cloud that lives inside of me.
He doesn't stir so easily these days,
But when he wakes he goes the distance.
In a marathon of days too long.
Open containers that sing songs,
"You'll never dream again, but you can pray."
Q: .7T - 5T
Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.
My lover what have you become?
Why must you look at me that way?