The dust on the roads, the taste on your lips.
Froze my world on the verge of summer.
Notification of someone's calling

I will never know about it.

Gray, gray, gray days.

Grays. Suppose, though, and it is.
In some ways, they were priceless
I will never know about it.


City of Angels his and others'
The good news again in the spring undressed.

Stuffy in you, even in the winter
I will never know about it.


Shelf compacts and a stack of papers
Trice will find new owners.
Something is wrong. Something is wrong.

I will never know.

We will become easier.

Good-bye, the other planets are waiting for us.
Do not be sad
We will meet with you, but not here.