I know that mindless dreams of violet sway the path,nA haze of trepidation denies the past,nThe mist covers up a wondering hand,nAnd though I cannot feel I understand.nnWhats wrong with me?nThese damp clothes cover up nothing.nnDoes your mind wish for a tear it recognises?nA time where beauty gasped an open eyelid,nThere's still a chance to rectify if you try this,nBut a new thread cuts my old one up to pieces.nnWhats wrong with me?nThese damp clothes cover up nothing.n