lundi, 06 décembre 2010
HATE ME SOFTLY
Eyes brushed by the wind
There's tangle in the wisteria
So many colours are crossing
Out of the pedestrian area
Skin burned by water
Boiling atmosphere of passion
Nothing more than a Christmas tree
On which you put your own garlands
There's no abroad or surround
Neighborhood was murdered
And a long time ago
Is just a smile of mascara
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