Ever resting on your train of thought, never the lessing on ways to help you heal your concealed mood.
90% of the time you dine with me, unspoken emotions seem so sublime to me. Never creating no time with me, yet you can’t see yourself apart, without, or excluding me.
Creating heavy rythmatics on my mental, conspiring to my jewel, corrupting what strife to be my fool, yet you look at me as if I knew?
You implied to me as if I could read your concealed code, just to lie to me you would turn to be so cold. You lied to me so that out love would have the illusion of gold. Confusion about our potential as this story unfolds.
URBAN GYPZY 