Someday, if it's fine, I wish that I could sail. Nobody's river can keep me deep like the child in me. Every day and every hour, I'm ready to sail off and go to sleep.


Black stains that no one can see; people are too busy discovering an empty road wishing and looking at it. I'm going to sleep. It's perfect. Put it on yourself over the hole in me. I could try to step up from my troubles and say "There it goes."