Sometimes I feel like a wayside beggar asking for alms except the alms are charms that nobody can conjure up at any notice whatsoever. Then you fall in love with the dreams that other people saw, oh so many nights back...centuries of nights...millennia of magic...but tell me, what more can one live for than those moments?
A few hours of stolen joy, secret happiness denied, unaccounted for... day after day...and then three minutes of paid purgatory.
Tell me that you lied. Or at least you (you, not you) are not telling the truth.
Humans need chances, and roadside dances. And lances? :(
OK I am not one for romances. Not romance, romances. Tell me. You, not you.