A Dying Breeze
Almost two years now, my dear.
Every second, minute, hour that wasted itself
To days, weeks and months, seems to have passed by like
A blur, a blip in time that laughs at us
For all that we've taken for granted, these memories.
Every second, minute, hour that wasted itself
To days, weeks and months, seems to have passed by like
A blur, a blip in time that laughs at us
For all that we've taken for granted, these memories.