Life Is A Thread That Someone Entangled.

The Chill Of What I Won't Feel Gnaws At My Present Heart.

Should I Be What I Think? But I Think About Being So Many Things!

When I Write, I Solemnly Visit Myself.

I Am The Escaped One, After I Was Born They Locked Me Up Inside Me But I Left. My Soul Seeks Me, Through Hills And Valley, I Hope My Soul Never Finds Me.

I'd Like To Be In The Country So That I'd Could Like Being In The City.