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Distance, the dissonance insurmountable,would be not the end,but a magnet.When fingertips kiss,they imprint and cement something,that cannot be disintegrated. Time becomes a phantom,the wind becomes an anchor,and old dreams- blankets of warmth.Lull with me, Lady,there is no greater escape.Love and war, even when buttered on toast,still makes for the breakfast of champions.

Distance, the dissonance insurmountable,would be not the end,but a magnet.When fingertips kiss,they imprint and cement something,that cannot be disintegrated. Time becomes a phantom,the wind becomes an anchor,and old dreams- blankets of warmth.Lull with me, Lady,there is no greater escape.Love and war, even when buttered on toast,still makes for the breakfast of champions.

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Attribution & collection notes
Author or tradition
Dave Matthes
Attribution: attributed
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Not established
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Historical period not yet established
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Contributor-provided quotation collection

Supplied reference C; CSV row 142031; supplied attribution, independently unverified

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