I sang a song to you, my dear
About your deepest privy fear
About the fire in their hands
About the all consuming sands
About the halls that burned and fell
About those born to die in hell
About the trampling of dreams
About death being what it seems
I sang a song to you, my dear
About my truest, oldest fear
I sang and slashed the final rope
Your ship set out along my hope.
Farewell
© Copyright: Триумвират, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114092800705
Свидетельство о публикации №114092800705
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