Through the looking glass I peep, to kill the envy in all that I seek.
Shine the light to the shadow, walk the stretch of hill in the morrow.
For thinking is home, the place one will always belong. To turn around, not bow down and listen in silence with an empty sound.
One for all, none for one. Moonlights end just has become. Not to ask for forgiveness nor permission, but to end each time with more of a reason.
Lonely will not be a sound, heartless people will not surround. Socks roll up, the boots come on. For morrow day has just begun.
