Now is the third season
The season I don't long
Cause it is here
And you are gone
You were the Incubus
Who raped my sleeping mind
Awake - pain was the master
I crawled in a chasm
But now
Unsown seeds germinate
Unplanted trees bear fruits
The spell is broken
Unsummoned reveries gather
Unwinged thoughts fly
Wind rapidly swings its arms
Takes fruits from the trees
And flings them away
But what's ripe falls
Nevertheless
To the ground
Этот текст прочитали 502 раз.