I've been a tripper
for days and nights;
for sabbath years,
trapped under ice.
Since the 20th century,
for a long time, I've been
the known old boy
knocking on back doors
all arround.
I've been a sultan, I've
been a beast - at least a pet
- burried in the same cemetery
that I nearly lost myself.
I must sail on, break the law;
my middle dream of life: it's time
to burn, to kill the king
of my hardest memories.
Me: let me see you, let me
to be your miracle man,
to show you that nothing's free,
nothing's real; to turn on
the lovedrive that makes me alive.
Bakery Poetry.
ResponderExcluirAí sim.
Sail on silver girl, sail on by. You're time has gone to shine, all your dreams come there way.
ResponderExcluir