Saturday 23 February 2008 photo 1/1
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Text av: kakka Läs gärna... The grave I’m just a simple girl, dress in black I don’t have a daughter I don’t even have a cat I’m living in the forest Sounded by high trees Every morning I see them Like fiches in the seas Deep down in my little heart a bird of paper live I don’t feed him either, I don’t like to give On Sundays I am digging on my big, big grave On it I am sitting like my fathers morning slave I don’t care for summer I don’t like to walk In the hottest evenings I´m sitting down to talk I’m talking to some people abut so many things Like problems of a vintner or the flowers of the springs In my head I’m thinking, people doesn’t die But in my grave I’m sitting thinking of a lie Tomorrow tears are falling on the holy ground But in a year I’m hearing laughter as a sound boom Now I’m dead…
Annons