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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