A girl
who came
from the past
had to learn
A murder song
A hunt
Hunt
Hunt
Hunt
Hunt
Itself
For control
or dopamine
That brings
life back
and kills
for good.
Every hunter
dreams
of a dear,
my dear.
I don't have
a license to kill,
but to give birth
to a never
ending story.
Everything
leads
to death.
Who will solve
the problem?
I have seen
pregnant women.
Why don't you
dream
about me?
I turn to you
and now you see
that no one likes
to be hunted,
but wants to be free.
When two kiss,
they must
really,
really,
really
be
very,
very
gentle
and
careful,
you see?
The gun is gone.
I see something clearly
fly up.
Blown away
or discarded
Somewhere,
like a lost Times
that has passed
its prime,
burned,
in the fire
in the power
of goodbye,
Without
a place
to look
for clues.
All that
yes,
all that
for you
it's
not.
But
when I looked at you
and you led me
to my memories,
I really thought
for a moment, and
I almost cried,
that there are roses
that one
loves too much
to pick
and
let die.
