White days were floating over us
-white hot iron-
The fibers did not move
No pulse
They weren't blinking
I could fell the rustle of the forest
I started before
Both of us
I was dancing in the dark
With you in my arms
A hint
And an illusion
We trample the novels
I feel death
A dead drop of rain falls
We look at the sky
Vibrating sparks of
Dream.