and the dinner and the wine.
I roam around in time,
in time, I roam around.
I feel so light, I babble, I whine,
I whine as I write these empty lines.
merely to fill in these lines, I write.
I do not feel a thing, I mime,
I mime myself in search of time,
in time, I search my grand sublime,
sublime that I am not able to find,
and so I stay with the wine and I dine,
and I eat my dinner, and I have my wine.
