I sit still in the edge of the cliff
My sight reaching as far as the eyes can see
Trying hard to envision the almost blur figure
And groping at the slightest warmth of his skin.
Colors of the sky has turned to gray
And my spirits are at low ebb
Almost waiting to complete the darkness
And cover the rest of my existence.
My thoughts give feign impression
To slake the longing of my desire
Picking up all the puzzles
That I have scattered in the field.
Humid is almost high
Drying up...
Suck me, suck my will, suck my dreams...
Reality replaces then the memories
Fading into dimlight and history.
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