Honest textures undulate
in this valley of embarrassment.
Your face is plane.
Eyes unending.
Why did I loose my secrets on a world of cold mirth,
of casual scorn?
Honest textures undulate
in this valley of embarrassment.
Your face is plane.
Eyes unending.
Why did I loose my secrets on a world of cold mirth,
of casual scorn?
Miniature Moon 