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Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
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agonia ![]()
■ Petite fougère ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-07-21 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
like a fingerprint of fog on your skin
I lay on the orange field. The stoned hour lights my bones to find out where I have been I’m melting, my heart is becoming your favourite colour like the leaves on a tree, the shivers on my spine the light is resting in your eyes in the morning you point at the sky, oh such a beautiful crime the clouds may be cold, but the distance is burning like a sinking ship my head falls in your hands I see the light and I’m trying to run but the air I’m breathing in suddenly beginning to bend ‘cause my conscience’s a trigger and my brain is a gun but I never knew that the sun hides away and tries to change the colours of my skies
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