Humans Were Built To Look

Bad Chances Were Better Than No Chances.

Overhead Was A Sky Blacker Than Jewlers' Velvet, And A Billion Stars Screamed Down.

You Learned To Accept, Or You Ended Up In A Small Room Writing Letters Home With Crayolas.

Each Life Makes Its Own Immitation Of Immortality.

They Were Still All Beautiful And There Was Still Enchantment And Wonder, But She Had Crossed A Line And Now The Fairy Tale Was Green With Corruption And Evil.