When your spiralling thoughts are mine
When your earthen beauty savours my dreams
I will fester on your tragedy
If you will never let me cleave onto you
We will go on a pilgrimage to find the perils of a mirage
When you will find my hopes are condensed and bottled
When you will see the mirror whitewashed in my hands
You wont be lost in the sour fumes of pictures
If you will ever mangle my naive crime
We will go on a pilgrimage to find the conflicts of time
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