At the sign, came to the last stop, dead waste and more to a demurgic state, following the footsteps of those who went beforehand.
Just a few miles, the sound of the siren, streets of traders and the noisy bystanders, all heading to the last pit stop.
What a trouvaille! With a merry heart and a warm smile, pictured in a haze, with golden lattern, pointing to the sky.
Lost my thoughts again..I was going to tell you more about how the dark valley turned to gloom.
Then I saw the loner heading toward the narrow lane with his ashy fingers pointing toward the sky.
