When the sun dies low
My soul dies and ever so slightly I love the night
But on this night its below
With no cause
I feel something deep inside
Something that's not rich as golden honey or the suns glows
Something that will never go
A sense of mirror with its broken glass with cracks in numbers that will always grow
And how much
No one knows
today I stay leaning
Not even slightly beaming
I open my mouth since I have nothing to withhold
On this ghastly most deary day
Where I only feel pain till I hear golden voice again that never makes me cold
Who doesn't like to be held
That tips the balance of deary and its brother eerie
That makes voice of whisper into something that I've held and with her golden voice I will always swell
For tis make this hell happy as your voice of golden honey bells