definitely after such a long way to fall and get up to try and veil
dreaming of days gone dead on my conscience fleet
a diaphanous chiffon ending the horrors that left their mark on me cloudy eyes.
No no my friend this is not a poem is just the flutter of insect
seems life when you look beyond the impossible.
Only the excess waste in the days of famine.
So in the middle of nowhere today I lieth hard remembering what day the laughter and tears and I was pleased with my stubborn fumare blame somewhere deep in the night remotely reminds us that although we always come out of obscurity sooner or later return to it to rest.
written by: eduardo unhealthy 
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