Bliss in fiction my friend hinder and his wander of non direction.
His name´s ponder, hanging on off the offchance asunder.
Off the vibration of thunder.
...
Solve my thousand crimson life
Like a viking living for plunder.
Puddles of me well up in the streets as the storm hits.
vermillion off me(not lifting me)
Bliss in fiction, my friend hinder died,
I still grieved like wet sleeves,
I gave up the wander alas it stuck,
Like a blood clot sticks
but I wonder if the cup I drink from will drive me
like riverbound lumber toward the rocky shores
of solitude.
From whence myriad red will claim me
when all is conluded.
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