A tale to recite, from the pages forlorn
From the lost evenings of bygone
To untether from the satire of this multiverse
To be upfront with the drizzle of sakura
To have to be holding hands underneath the reign of crimson cloud
Aloud, amidst the reclination of the porcelain temperament of the firmament to sapphire
If only I had to recite, to revert to those mesmerizing memoirs
They still belong to my misty psyche
But bygone remain bygone
What's gone would be forgotten by dawn
I promise you I'll moist your eyelids
Almost as much as mine were, when I was living the days aforementioned
When I rested my thighs on the seat by the lamppost
To where I walked myself
Just to get a glimpse of my Dutchess
Who'd walk down the aisle with me
Beneath the same cloud syndicate.
We're close, well maybe, now
But those anecdotes would fabricate my still nostalgia of happiness.
I see the thundercloud out of my window, but the rumbling that rung my wit the most was from the reign of crimson mist
Those days of November
Walking miles just to get a glimpse of my Dutchess, from town of the tales, my Empyrean
When I, an aspirant, aspired to remain your swain, never having to let you go ever again
