Alley cat in the broken rain felt so tired,
a little insane again.
Wondering through a grey area of hermetic scholars,
lost in fairytales of ancient dreams.
Butterflies are crawling in the blue wings of a cathedral,
the gypsy woman whining for some French fries .
Butterflies are crawling in the blue wings of a cathedral,
the gypsy woman whining for some French fries .
A simple twist of faith took me to a garden
reclaimed from the dirt,
the ministry was vacant and lost in a hole
beside the natural blues of a broken woman.
the ministry was vacant and lost in a hole
beside the natural blues of a broken woman.
The scent of pink, the mountains mumble.
No comments:
Post a Comment