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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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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-07-15 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
The dirt gets deeper every day
with prolonged moments of decay when a blowtorch lights the way. I count the hours in your eyes the hopeful tale within me dies sensations turn to shallow lies. We pack the past away in crates my knees bear many silent scrapes this wasn't wine, but sour grapes. Reality ends my dreams of you, sad reflections in eyes of blue when the shine is rusted through. Forget me, I didn't really matter I didn't give you love to flatter, we're the fools who now know better.
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