and I am still in doubt,
that through one single weave
we can forget about
things that mattered the most.
On a brown hanging rope,
with both of our eyes closed,
we sink and develop.
I am led
as a ghost
off my bed
in a host.
I was dead.
I was there.
Now I see beneath.
I am here,
please, my dear,
do not fear;
I´ll be near.
And you´ll feel
love so real,
so real...
Now I see what I´ve done.
My hopes - none.
Now I see what I´ve done.
My thoughts - gone.
Venované skupine Fándlyho bicykel.
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marttina
26. 4.apríla 2013 14:39
Finally!
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