Hay veces en que me dan ganas de escribir las cosas mas cursis del mundo *
Fire burning in a hill the lines are rocky rough
Red angels wait to pick remains the cindered shoulder of confused men seperate from their awe with grey desire he looks out mad his soft grey indigo eyes indigo eyes ...
Asking....his heaven is uncovered not a black tree blocks his way his way is skating round a dome
The playmate sings like Orphee in some thunder world asking to be bathed in light to be exemplified with grey desire he looks out mad
his soft grey indigo eyes, saw his past he had dug for trust ,with blind infected hands n' wondered as the hurt bit hard,why the sacred weren't at hand ,only when his ears were deaf,to the angels light burst waves ,only when his ears were deaf
Did life turn from fog to fog but not evil but estranged*
Eso lo dice todo...
Red angels wait to pick remains the cindered shoulder of confused men seperate from their awe with grey desire he looks out mad his soft grey indigo eyes indigo eyes ...
Asking....his heaven is uncovered not a black tree blocks his way his way is skating round a dome
The playmate sings like Orphee in some thunder world asking to be bathed in light to be exemplified with grey desire he looks out mad
his soft grey indigo eyes, saw his past he had dug for trust ,with blind infected hands n' wondered as the hurt bit hard,why the sacred weren't at hand ,only when his ears were deaf,to the angels light burst waves ,only when his ears were deaf
Did life turn from fog to fog but not evil but estranged*
Eso lo dice todo...
1 comentario:
Pucha nenaa T__T el pasado siempre termina atormentandonos pom, y al fin y alcabo el (l) habla por nosotras y le da la media patá en el culo a la mente. y.. hay que decirlo, los sentimientos son tan conshesumares.
k9
Amé comunicarme ayer contigo(l), enserio. A todo esto, cómo te fue en la marcha?
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