What things must come, how light must shine, as the fog rolls in, life becomes soft luminaries bright fires become dull embers and then the day start. One right after the other how can this be, oh now is the night, constellations up high know by sight forgotten by name.
What things must be, by day I feel wide asleep lead by hallucinations blurred daydreams. So is the day, so is the night. Attracted by candle light, warmed by sights and intrusive gazes.
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