Heed My Mind,

And Swallow My Tongue,

As I Will Subconsciously Wade,

Not Swim To My Demise,

Not A Thought Has Shone,

Shone Through The Mirror Of My Eye,

The Icy Pane Of Forgiveness,

Of Which None Should Penetrate,

Preventing All Grievances From Truly Being Removed,

Thus, With Every Treaty,

A Glimmering Resides,

And As Every Man,

Which Has Ever Stepped Among The Light Knows,

It Takes Only A Seed