Wine Gave A Sort Of Gallantry To

This Is What I Think Now: That The Natural State Of The Sentient Adult Is A Qualified Unhappiness.

I Had Traded The Fight Against Love For The Fight Against Loneliness, The Fight Against Life For The Fight Against Death.

People Disappeared, Reappeared, Made Plans To Go Somewhere, And Then Lost Each Other, Searched For Each Other, Found Each Other A Few Feet Away.

No Amount Of Fire Or Freshness Can Challenge What A Man Will Store Up In His Ghostly Heart.

So We Drove On Toward Death Through The Cooling Twilight.