I am sick with it
Cold and my blood
Is slow
Thick like oil
Fading away
Into something
Which approached
Relief
Once.
I hear the symphony
Faint and yet it
Rouses me
Still
I am sick with it
Cold and my blood
Is slow
Thick like oil
Fading away
Into something
Which approached
Relief
Once.
I hear the symphony
Faint and yet it
Rouses me
Still