You’re a walking metaphor,
You’re a talking tragedy,
Walk of a fallen bird,
Voice of a prismatic demon…
Smile of a broken glass reflection,
Weirder than the 5th of November,
You’re getting close to purity,
And farther from my hands of heresy.
Wish upon the eyes of a blue sky,
Until the day is colored with black dye.
Keep my twisted, faded heart in your
Right an unsuspecting mind.
Un comentariu:
iuhuhuuuu.....bagă tare maestre.....îmi place cum scrii....fii supărat!
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