feadother

In the early morning hours as time stands still, breathless, and unchanging, darkness is full and impenetrable, for Apollo has yet to harness his great steeds and brighten the mortal world with fiery life. When sleep should be upon the minds of man - from the lowly born to silver spoon wielders - a trill, long note resounds through the leafy canopy of useless shade. Oh, sweet little songbird, that brightly sings his liveliness into the early morning darkness outside the glassy portal of my consciousness - STFU, I'm trying to sleep.