The Satan is in
The bottle of vine
And winking on me: ‘Fill it up.
My juice put you down,
You'll be such a clown,
Hey you, so strange and stock up.
I’ll make though this juice
The way to you hart,
And punch you, or make you to laugh…
You’ll love all the girls
Of old fashion Earth,
But will not forget single one…
Why felt you in love?
The weather was tough?
Or lips her so shiny and sweet?
She comes, went away, as shadow makes way
From sky during cloudy day.
You drink but not drunk,
Your tears so crank.
Don’t drop it in my pure juice…
You trapped as a bird,
You nothing was taught, -
Again, I’m win and you hurt!..’
The drunk song саша черный
© Copyright: Ани Чиверс, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103042901054
Свидетельство о публикации №103042901054
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