Next in line for the suitcase brigade, next inline for the show.
I saw you standing there, huddled along the shore. No point in coming up, you were gone beyond the storm. Hide your hands on the other side, profane one. Bite your tongue and breath deep, sleep softly. Beyond the curtains I see, above the walls and the city sleep, past lives return to me. Say goodnight to our satallites. See clearly, wasted time spent on bended knee. Sleep softly.