of inspiration This is a journey ...
The other day I hit a girl ... I said Chet (? At least I'm skinny, terrible fat was ...
The poet's voice stops
His words are suspended in the air
The ground you walk in there ... maybe not
'll take you through my darkest dreams in the morning, passing current
full of blood ...
In the garden of Jane Delawney ...
thought the pink was an exhibition ...
It starts when you pass the ...
O fire consume your hair and your eyes be made of glass ...
In the shade of the willow, not lie to hear
mourn For her tears of gold and jade you drown while you sleep ...
delawney Jane has dreams that never found
flow that feeds the stream is the lifeblood of her lover ...
And the purifying beam of the sun never shines here
While the spirit of his dream in the garden will live forever ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment