Have no time, too much people around me
They are calling, but I never come.
Too much life, there 's no beacon to guide me
There ' s no peace – only cluttering drum.
Nothing's here, nothing' s there,
Nothing matters.
Through the flames of bonfire, the truth,
Things there are, things that are still to happen
Fade away, just like mount I look.
Bonfire the pure
© Copyright: Андрей Китайцев, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117020510560
Свидетельство о публикации №117020510560
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