My arrow smooths the contours of your face Like a sleepy child thought nought Of drawing a finger to trace A line to lead me to a place where you lie for me To the heavens above where hell doth lie Like a marksman I must I will prove with dust
My arrow follows the contours of your face like a sleepy child who thinks not of drawing a finger to trace a line to lead me to a place where you will lie like a marksman I must fire with dust
My arrow smooths the contours of your face
RépondreSupprimerLike a sleepy child thought nought
Of drawing a finger to trace
A line to lead me to a place where you lie for me
To the heavens above where hell doth lie
Like a marksman I must
I will prove with dust
J
My arrow follows the contours of your face
RépondreSupprimerlike a sleepy child who thinks not
of drawing a finger to trace
a line to lead me to a place where you will lie
like a marksman I must
fire with dust