these days of sorrow intersecting every track, these days 
are a mark on the line of us fadin' out. days of 
intercourses and reprobation of ourselves and every 
sketch is painting me and you while we were parting ways. 
these days of contrast bordering our shapes, these day 
will detach us from each one's plain surface. days of 
intercourses and reprobation of ourselves and every 
sketch is painting me and you while we were parting ways.