The flesh of crashing angels
Is bitter like our pain,
And in the eyes of strangers
I spent my life in vain.
There`s no rest for Cain`s people,
A pale and sleepless face,
You can call me a cripple,
A ruin, a disgrace.
I gathered all the passions
And threw them down the well...
Don`t wait for my confessions,
And don`t mess with my hell.
Church of Tiamat
© Copyright: Аль Батрос, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115031910082
Свидетельство о публикации №115031910082
Рецензии