It's Easy To Forget Things You Don't

The Thoughts That Occur To Me While I’m Running Are Like Clouds In The Sky. Clouds Of All Different Sizes. They Come And They Go, While The Sky Remains The Same Sky Always. The Clouds Are Mere Guests In The Sky That Pass Away And Vanish, Leaving Behind The Sky.

I Couldn't Tell Wether The Hole That Opened Up Inside Me Was From Missing You Or From The Change Of Season

Time Flows In A Strange Way On Sundays.

Everything Passes. Nobody Gets Anything For Keeps. And That's How We've Got To Live.

The Problem Was, I Think, That The Places I Fit In Were Always Falling Behind The Rimes.