H.P. Lovecraft — Electrollentando

Whirling, twirling, swirling Past the night, your door Better than before Not blue moon any more Flying, flying, flying Drifting through the room Smelling still of you Dreaming of the afternoon Oh, I'm dreaming of the afternoon Flying, flying, flying I'm drifting through the room Smelling still of you I'm dreaming, dreaming of the afternoon I'm dreaming I'm dreaming I'm dreaming