My Kandora, you wander solemnly.
I linger,
I owe - what?
A hundred tides!
I linger,
I owe - what?
A hundred tides!
I'll wait, I know that
I'm native here.
My Kandora, your blood runs faster.
I linger
I owe - what?
My Kandora, the finest pellicle,
My loning.
I owe what?
A hundred tides!
I'll stay , I know that I'm native here.
I linger,
I owe what?
I wonder why.
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Life of a Ghost
Sweep of Days