It's cold in the room, but that's a sacrifice
Only I can make to truthfully outsing
Everyone in this room. The sky outside
Is bald, clasped, but shining through time;
Blank edges of solstice and the full hopes of
A verdant chime, a blaring sun of mine.

In a roundabout way, I add dynamics
And build the cadence to a deceptive close.
In times of merriment, this only satisfaction
Gives me an article, a heartfelt detraction
That adds to the singles I release from my EP;
The nasal-sounding timbre comes from my nose.

The logistics of music are much like the days;
Short, frigid, succinct to sound sickly,
Which I don't seem to find in the darkness of night, in
Her own beauty, unfortunately, she rapes me of light.