A notting hill, gracefully standing with its face painted in greens.
Some dark, some light.
Some hard and some easy to hide.
Beauty in it's arms just craving to stay alive.
It blew the wind, while wandering to the sides.
Left me thinking of the heaps that could brew the rides.
I wish I knew, what would save me from strides.
Strides that would kill, kill the memories deep inside.
