You are constellations, and you are breaths
that swirl in cold times
and you are the music that thrums across my pulse late at night
and you are the music that thrums across my pulse late at night
tell me a piece of your history that you’re proud to call your own…speak in words you picked up as you walked through life alone…
This is the story of Amelia Pond. And this is how it ends.
This fell through a hole in time and space. I wonder if it’s accurate. I hope it is.
My name is Amy Pond. When I was seven I had an imaginary friend. Last night was the night before my wedding. My imaginary friend came back.
Demons run when a good man goes to war. Night will fall and drown the sun, when a good man goes to war. Friendship dies and true love lies, night will fall and dark will rise, when a good man goes to war. Demons run but count the cost. The battle’s won but the child is lost.