#12 (From, ‘what's Really Happening-In 54 Numbers’)
P
Peter S. Quinn
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Trusting me or trusting not,
Everything's an endless plot;
Breaking boundaries between,
With a fresh new scheme.
Nothing is like it should be,
I'm numb inside of me;
Trusting the world for my time,
Reason for each rime.
We have now nothing going,
Just like the wind's blowing;
Love falls apart from inside,
Dark dim out the bright.
Fading rose old valentine,
Lonely moments between;
Sitting and waiting in grey,
Hours lost on their way.
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