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Thirty Days...
exit - november
theres nothing yet
that i cannot remember
clinging on to anything
within my reach
and the coming of december
i passed away and
was reborn
on the third week of
the season
begging for rain to drench
whats left of that
burning reason
but i still wish you
i still dream you
i still breathe you
three hundred and
twenty five days thereafter
trying to rebuild
but instead died
unhappily everafter
and will ever mourn
inside the cold quarters
of yet another december
bring along all that remains
that i cant unremember
