sexta-feira, julho 14, 2006
July (summer skies)
Around me, everything gradually fades to grey...
Like the eyes of a dying horse.
Where does your smell flows (rigth now)?
And for whom? And when?
"...Sleep while you think of me with kindness,
please remember former days.
Sweet the song that once we sang,
the silent parting ways.
And you know, and you know..."