Peripheral planned deeds.
a past fatality turned around...

I cannot excuse this frozen isolation,
Crawling up and down my spine like a piece of cold...

They were so red,
Bruisen black below...

Judging from this scope,
I must say that you are a mile away...

The words I picture just may be wisdom;
An isolation from the illusion; reality...

I once saw Venus in the sky,
Fumes and heat met my eyes...

The sky told me it was morning,
But the clock told me it was night...

It was like an unborn evil,
What we had between us...

Weeks have passed,
Yet I don't remember one...

This is the line,
Where past and present collide...

He held his arms with his hands, and his elbows...
He took his hands from his arms, allowed the veins...

This view tempts my will,
With a cliff to define my risk with consequence...