I am truly alone,
My head is filled with nonsense,
I agonizingly moan
To break my too realistic conscious.

I'm very much a feather,
Flying to the ground,
I wish it could be better,
But to three I cannot count...

...now...

All I want is now,
Cause I always was the future,
I've been asking you "how"
Despite knowing how to capture

That feeling of warmth,
The sensation in your heart,
The feeling of self-worth
With me preparing to have it carved.

But it's not about love...
Or maybe?
No, it is not about a dove;
It's something beyond.

I seek a convoluted connection,
To which I can feel intrigued,
With whom I can run intersections,
With whom I will not feel fatigue;

To be the spirit beside myself,
A cloud hovering above my thoughts,
To break my ice to melt,
And so I will never cough.

Spirits alive,
Spirits in eight,
Infinity is carved,
Yet I still don't know of the date...