Indeed seems interesting.
Indeed looks amusing.
Then there were those few who knew it was just a phase. Get drunk, get high and at night its time to go. And in the day they all walk away. Each to his own, life is weirdly potrayed.
More noises, more silence, whichever way the wind blows, over rocks, over lakes, over mere mortals who were underdosed.
Point at stars, blow the candles, blow the smoke. Random barks as people silently go. Alseep a few, cold were some. Lights disappeared as morning had come.
Green grass, White cheese, some water, some ease. A house was something to which people come and go, nobody cares, nobody knows.
Large lands full of people, some get to sit, cause the rest of them - only spit. Talk about thoughts, some need to breathe. They think a lot, they need to live.
Walk across darkness, sleep beneath beds, the Life of Others is merely half said.
