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| aftermath | ||||||||||||||||
| appearance | ||||||||||||||||
| poetry | ||||||||||||||||
| burn | ||||||||||||||||
| In This Life... | ||||||||||||||||
| You draw me from my present state. the candles die, the room swirls, the night almost gone. in an instant i imagine perfection. we pull so tight, needing to fulfill every dream; to replace every nightmare, to erase every tear. when I find you, will I understand? when I find you, will this all drift away? when I find you, will I be who I wish to be? | ||||||||||||||||
| Lyrics from Russia by Sam Rosenthal | ||||||||||||||||