Из альбома: The Evening of the 24th

The cold it penetrates so deep
The leaves cry drops of ice
A fire guts the land inside him
He wonders what's it like
To be in the sunshine with her

The wet material on his face
With lines of unforgetful stress
A scratch in the wall by his side
He watches all the time
While all around him wallpaper dies

The boards of such familiar grain
Are roads leading nowhere
Careful drawings in the dust
He tries to remember
The breeze it blows it all away
Something through the darkness
Caught his eye

Комментарии

2018.09.07

Zvad jzs

какой сплин, какая хондра, - почти русская хондра.