Too much of fear and too much of pain,
It's hard to believe and it's hard to explain.
I pray every morning for warmness and care.
But all that have happend seems cruel and unfair.
And where are the angels,
Flying from heaven
With beautiful faces
And nice curly hair?
And where are their harps,
Playing blues In the air?
Their eyes full of love,
Shining forever.
Too much of insoluble past in the future,
Not clear stories, dark and impure.
I'm trying to rescue myself, but for sure
I need help of those who's bringing this cure.
I wish they were here, I wish they were near,
I wish them to wipe away all of my tears.
I wish they are watching at me from the cloud,
I wish them to let their love abound.
Where are the angels?
© Copyright: Инна Шумилина, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113071700640
Свидетельство о публикации №113071700640
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