Eros

We will meet in Elysium. Lullabyic hysteria “It is too late,” I
said. The fire is open. Where is war when you need it? We will meet
in Elysium. Lullabyic hysteria I will play romance on my violin
until a thousand dollars fills my case. We can race the racetrack
until our lungs come back. O, L. Reach out and try it. Our cigars
will still smoke a hundred years later. This is how the mad half
lives.