Salted memories of August,
Sluggish grass on empty fields,
Crying souls deter from madness,
Drinking wine and singing dreams.
Empty glasses of attraction,
Full of glory summer nights;
You walk down a rainy alley
And remember all the signs:
Fading green, evolving redness
Of the skies in front of mould.
We raise glasses for new stories,
For new pleasures turned to gold...
Reaching sunlight is no longer
One of natures filthy plans;
Haunting down the empty passage
Is what future holds in past...
No comments:
Post a Comment