Muses follow the aspiring sound
The sound of writersblock
Knock
Knock
Knock
It says
While solemnly lingering through the night
But if I could see within your eyes
The passion of liberty
As ferocious dreams
In the pale mind of young hearts
Is my end coming near so well
Did my eyes not speak
Wished I not to sing for you
No voice and heart both remain weak
So I turned around
For late be the hour
I shall turn into disappearance
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