When inspiration rains it pours, august clouds of wavy hair descent.
I can't believe your name, you are more than I, much to much for me to consume or bear.
I can do this, for eternity, wholesome forever.  Never dying like even every star must do eventually.

A little scared, a little trepidation.  I need be free, its only natural, but I’ll survive with a battle knife in flame withered brush.