czwartek, 16 lutego 2017

Veiller. - Weasel

Days like this make me die
Dying with every breath I take
Forever lost, forever gone
Still searching for traces
of what I've been before

Broken, lying on floor
I can still feel your breath
Skimming skin of my neck
Hungry weasel clinging to the hair
Licking my blood to my rythm of
Each hearthbeat
Where are you?
My Hurricane, my disaster
My sweet poison on my lips?
Did you hide in one of the vases
Full of dried roses?


Pity lovesong that I sang once
When both of us were watching the moon
Rising in the horizon
You said - 'Till tomorrow'
And we both know that tomorrow
Will never come

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