He who has never swooned, is not he who finds strange palaces and wildly familiar faces in coals that glow; is not he who beholds floating in mid-air the sad visions that the many may not view; is not he who ponders over the perfume of some novel flower.
Thereโs a cold and dark place, dusty floors and old ash from the flames, this was where you said to me that I shouldnโt cry when the world was cruel to me.