There Is Nothing Left for You to Lose Except Your Good Name and the Future Possibility of Happily Merging With the Glow of Midnight Sirens

Your Mellow Words Are the Merely Words of Possibility on Behalf of Not Caring About Being Forgotten; So Reshape the Past Like the Horns of a Ring, Laughing in the Ears of All the Children on the Eternal Night Shift

Am I the One Who Nurture Shapes From Scratch, or Am I the Dead End Experience of Nature's Everlasting Search for Truth?

I Can Easily Become Your Illegal Guardian If You Mend My Broken Pair of Wings With Your Intoxicating Love Potion