Tech Deck Spare Trucks

cry in your own power moon
With tears made drop silk
Making even the mist in the mist
In the solitude of touch curfew,
In the solitude of touch curfew.
The hand that touches suspended,
A half sigh just the kiss,
to moan Moan opens the wound
And the night falls under its own weight,
And the night falls under its own weight.
For each slit, the time back to the houses
like smoke in the solitude of touch curfew
A foreign tongue mutters price
and another language to coin money paid.
Each release his trapeze aerialist
In the solitude of touch curfew,
In the solitude of touch curfew.