The talking is done, the key we hunt
Surrealism has just begun.

The sun's warmth embraces, the cool wind enlivens
Yet welcome to the dark cold world within, without.

Why do you shiver?
Why do you shake?
For what you seek shall walk in your wake
Lest run we shall to the burning grate.

I know what's coming, what awaits
But higher still now are the the stakes
And Freud was right, though admit to I hate
But let flowers bloom for old time's sake

Watching
awaiting
Emotion crowds unknowing
Only greed is growing
Under the torrid sun...