THE LAST
They live under the ground,
They fear morning light,
Their kingdom’s all around —
For the lords of darkest night.
The night is neverending,
They’re coming for you soon.
Above the sleeping city
The ancient face of Moon.
The riders of the midnight
By all means want to win.
From night to night they’re seeking
Any way to get in.
And there’s no word for saying,
And there’s no place to run.
The everlasting hunting…
Your friend is shining sun.
Your oaken bow’s weakening…
What’s next? And you don’t know…
In spite of you’re the strongest,
One day you’ll have to go.
The Last
© Copyright: Тимур Тугушев, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102071900174
Свидетельство о публикации №102071900174
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