Golden Roses
Forever and ever and never will break
Soul as a whiskey, still breathing but dead
Your feelings, my feelings, your eyes are fake
Sketches on your back is a map of silence
It never get old because it already dead
And now we know how stars smell like
You should kill me in a bed
Do you like what you see?
Grand wrath should never believe
My money - my grave
Just perfect way to be...
Свидетельство о публикации №110020501105
Оксана Соловьева 05.02.2010 15:55 Заявить о нарушении
в грамматике слабоват
конструктивная критика мне поможет)
Кузьмин Игорь Олегович 06.02.2010 11:44 Заявить о нарушении