Letras:Abarthjour Floreale. Formichina.

He's walking in the meadow
i feel his steps, the shocks, my end
feeling like a little "nothing"
it's still so hard to accept

try
I guess you
try...

have you never tried
to feel somewhere else,
to be out of every flight-path?
tell me
have you never tried
to feel somewhere else,
to be simply out of range?