This Winter, 
It Feels Like My First.
Though Time Was Never My Friend.
These Things, They’ll Get By When We’re All Dead.
She Dreams 
Of Gothic Miserys
Of Times Never Began.
She’s A Dream A Day Ago While We’re Near.
While We’re Left With The White Noise Of Burning.
I Heard You Calling My Name.
And I 
For Days Oblige 
The Grave Inside Those Eyes.