Never an honest world, never a promised tomorrow. Well, never mind.
Upon a day, a while wherefore pain and company, it’s brother dear, come silently.
No eye of fate, this brain has gloomy fear, and this heart has hued bearing changing passions.
Now I’m nothing, 1956. My own mind, the war. Angelic clothes full of tears. When I was a kid, it was better cause I was sorry.