There seems to be a problem here,
Where the world is lost, so dear, so near,
To being what it would have been
Had merely a body taken the rein.
And forever there is broken glass,
Upon the foggy windowpane,
For there is no such thing as lust,
Without stain, a knowing stare
A seeming trust.
There seems to be a problem here,
As the glass freezes sheer and the sire creeps in
The keening of the cold has no matter,
No argument to the pane
Who is broken and shattered..
Had merely a body taken the rein.
