Beneath the waves
Above the clouds
Through the gates
Of sweet blackout
Silly laughs
Young hands
New land
Go up good son
Don’t look astray
Most of us
Don’t have a way
No certain path
No sense of mission
The curtain burns
In intermission
The curtain burns
The crowd cheers
The lights grow dim
Bless me father
For I have sinned
On the run
© Copyright: Вавилонский, 2001
Свидетельство о публикации №101072600034
Свидетельство о публикации №101072600034
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