Of the Room

White cloth, black napkins, wood chairs, surround me

Wood tables, foggy signs, in front with no liesNight falls beneath candle lightCast shadows, incense fragrance

From the corner of the room

Cloudy senses, stale light below, beneathNight falls beneath candle light

White squalls beneath winter skiesNight falls beneath winter skies

White squalls beneath winter skiesA faceless crowd of elderly beings

Roses sprouting, yellow glow

With sound conscience into the night, beneathNight falls beneath candle light

White squalls beneath winter skies