Off, The Bow; Strained. No arrows, there never were.
Run, evil; run. Too late now to get tired.
Your light, burning hot, waiting for tomorrow.
Darkening, smouldering,
                                               brought back to mind

In another time. In confidence;...self-pity.
Frankly, I'm expecting a lot from in a minute. An tender lookkat least.
  Investigation fouled the last. Be wary, wanted, a conqueror;
                                                           for ugliness

So-w-hat do we find, why don't youm learn.
  Nymphs of the wood, with their urban disease of suggestion!!...
    Limping up to the fountainhead, walking on, out-of-this-wórld,
      maybe you didn't know about the ground water.
Frankly, I must have expected too much.

Pictures of us or- just youu, me
  Advertising circles, along your ways in us. A helping reference?
Cafff. Self-conceit saves the damager. In order that, in order that
  the blankness of this world's face may be born into the answers.

Frankly, I'm expecting great pasts. Go on
                                  be scared, that's allright.
Smother truth in a lie, blame someone else,
                                         blame innocence,
  and everyone will sleep real-tight;
Onlyafter the hanging, that is, but before the hangman of awareness.

Frankly, I'm execting too much.
                           Sheet music probably won't cure
  incsurability. Still, there are other improbabilities, this for one.