The damp rain smelt of milk and honey,
You promised me always for neither,
My eternal love nor my heartless money,
And though the heartbeat isn't there; oh!
It aches so unbearably, ache and ache.
The fate that awaits us is inevitabe,
Our dreams consist of? Fiction and fake.
And the end of stillness is near,
Today fades far into tomorrow,
As my breath
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