roads, skies and Stephen. the middle of the night, I may watch you go
there'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown
there'll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown

stretch out my life and pick the seams out
take what you like, but close my ears and eyes

or watch me stumble. over and over.

I know I've tried.. 
I was not stable and flawed by pride 

I miss my sanguine eyes.

but I'd be yours if you'd be mine....

hot ginger and dynamite!

maybe it's like when Wooster still trusted Barmy's "tobaccy wicky wacky woo" music taste.

Yes! the milkshake, pagoda, soda, bananananananana indeeed! 
Flight of Ideas? maybe. It does sound like that, doesn't it? Even I confused myself how to put words into it.
That inevitable, unavoidable rush of bloods to the head. ....said like that if you want to.

come, come. honestly, do you even thought the website will stay until next day?