I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold oh what a contrast you were to the brutes in the halls my timid young fingers held a decent animal. Over the ramparts you tossed the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers tied to a brick sweet as a song the years have been short but the days were long. Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed when our kite lines first crossed we tied them into knots and to finally fly apart we had to cut them off. Since then it's been a book you read in reverse so you understand less as the pages turn or a movie so crass and awkardly cast that even I could be the star. I don't look back as much as a rule and all this way before murder was cool but your memory is here and I'd like it to stay warm light on a winter's day. Over the ramparts you tossed the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers tied to a brick sweet as a song the years have been short but the days go slowly by two loose kites falling from the sky drawn to the ground and an end to flight.
האתר פועל ברישיון אקו"ם
כל הזכויות שמורות 2022 ©