pondelok 13. februára 2012

French Lips

There are issues in my mind.
If i can turn my life from puddle to the glass of wine
if i can stop the time and react faster to landslides of my thoughts
On this pathway to the graveyard, with all those poems on my tongue
i thought i saw a light.


With high expectations i was rushing for
future prospect we built on myth of unstoppable clocks.
As im retracing same steps im swallowing the fact
that once again will remain only hole in my chest.

I don t know
how to dance
with all those demons that wear your face.
When i come near
what i hear
is only echo of your flame
my dear!
Standing here
with heart on my sleeve
bagging for something we couldn't be.
And all
what rests
is your bluring siluette in theese strains.

With burn expectations i have nowhere to rush
after breaking our clocks before our time has passed.
I've triped up on same steps and swallowed the fact
that once again remains only heartshaped hole in my chest.

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