The wind never whispers
until the city recieves the next season.
Her pocket is too small to hide herself inside.
The window never opens
until the shiny sky closes his blue eyes.
Her bullet is too slow to fly through that flag.
She wonders if that moon is fruit.
The night would be more delicious.
She wonders if that moon is hers.
She would not be alone any more.
The candle's never burning
until the party is thoroughly over.
The purple morning is too pale to know what time is.
She wonders if that sun is gone.
The day would be more glorious.
She wonders if that sun is dead.
She would not be alone any more.
She wonders if that moon is fruit.
The night would be more delicious.
She wonders if that moon is hers.
The world would be more delicious.
She wonders if that sun is gone.
The day would be more glorious.
She wonders if that sun is dead.
She would not be alone any more.
