Scattered thoughts, spattering and splattering all over.

- Lonely child, only child,
Singing poems to the night,
Come inside, forget the wild,
There's no reason for fright.

- Brittle golden leaves fallen on the hardened earth, beautifully failing at keeping up with the world. Miserable failure has never seemed more elegant. The wind blows softly, steadily... the leaves weaken over time, and then finally give way to the wind. They let the wind take control as they realize that they are insignificant leaves, and that they will all die alone, but the wind remains immortal.

- (Sing a hymn to the immortal wind.)

- The wind we are feeling today is the same wind that was here thousands of years ago... the same dirt, the same planet. We think we can still outlast this. In a hundred years, none of those who are alive now will still be around, and you'd think we'd start anew, but nobody ever does.

- Not all old men are bitter.
- Not all old men are old, but not all young men are young either.

- (Sing me a song of complete misery and terrible, beautiful agony. Sing me your swan song.)

- (Sing me a song of your beauty.)

- "Shhh... only dreams now, child... only dreams now."
"I love this dream..."