People make house to have roof over their head. What if I tell you all I have is the sky?

Beauty is always a mask, a loud warning of universe, a roaring semblance of terror.

Love is a wonderful thing. Oh, yeah it is. But for me, it never really takes a particular shape. Maybe because I like to go deep. Where everything is shapeless or maybe every shape is just a hollow. Nothing to see, only to feel.

My man catches butterflies in the bayou, He wants to see me at his knees, Do you too...? My man catches butterflies in the bayou, He likes my tears gleaming darker than water, Do you too...?

Death is inevitable, beautiful. Only one thing that I desire from it; when you come to me, please come with dignity.

Sometimes it is discombobulating that I am written by God, and all the shining stars they too are. We came from the same place, doesn't it make sense that we are supposed to have something beautiful in common too?

People are stupid and most of them only use their heads to wear tiara or hats.

I always have had a strong feeling that my work will be known posthumously. After my body is buried under the cold ground and my soul gets lost be wandering among all the strangers in the neon gray groves. Maybe, maybe...

And, in the involuntary loop of detachment, he's forever mine.