Spurious in consequence lay
in defense here we come.
The night turns brown while I await nothing.
Anxious hope is blowing straight
through crumbly foundations
that fall.
Free indeterminacy you are caught,
did you want the sky to be blue instead?
Then I’m sorry, but I tried to respect your expectations.
The world outside comes up from behind,
do you feel the hairs on your neck tonight?
I don’t,
but I do feel ill without you.