Just waking up on Sunday morning
And all my thoughts about how to die
If things so bad as famous Global Warming
And stupid dreams, on which I have no time
I'm waking up and see the world beside me
And people smiling with the guns in hands
"No, it's al right" - oh sweet, you know - I'm lying
Death is the best among my greedy friends
I found myself inside my broken dreams
They're used to show how life is temporary
It comes and goes. In waves. Like songs and films
Which seem old school from now, when I'm not there
What is the use if we're going home?
I mean - too deep into the darkest souls
Soon I just know - I will be fuckin done
And they will ask death "is that boy now yours?"
английская печаль
© Copyright: Настя Июльская, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114050605890
Свидетельство о публикации №114050605890
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