White dreams of sour relish   four candles in virgins nest   Sweet rhyme of brook flows in our minds... we fly.   Words in a cold frost eve,   taken by the form of breeze   Falling down before they get to known... the sough      Drunken by a fierce of night   and some who reclamied my mind   The dark is longer than we thought, so cold.   Black snow shall fade our shapes   roots of the oak embrace   Sweet rhyme of brook flows through our times, alive.      A quiet pray, another day   for the words that never said.   November's eve, four of a breeze   for the words that never feels,   Forever we die, forever disdain   in white dreams of sour relish.   Forever white, forever night   loose love cleaves to a dark.