Making interpratations: A soliloquy.

No amount of crass and class,

the song of seance climbing clouds,

adrift by the mourning of mountains, lakes.

A rose of sun,

days ahead of time ein-in-stains of bloody flames calling friday fun,

rave,

rave the night is shameless in her hands,

maide of honor,

the deeds a man has claimed.

Calling a course corrections,

what is in spade,

a tigers end wrapped around her neck,

tailing the chasers of red.