Morgondagen inställd i brist på intresse.
2013-10-17 | 19:38:09 |
Kategori: Litterärt nonsens |
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Here at the edge,
the winters frost lay ever dormant,
pushing away the strays of spring.
The grey faces are shoveling their paths,
all climbing their mountains,
while I'm buried under mine.
Do not come in, I beg you
I can not handle another cook,
throwing vitriolic in my stew,
and calling it sugar.
the winters frost lay ever dormant,
pushing away the strays of spring.
The grey faces are shoveling their paths,
all climbing their mountains,
while I'm buried under mine.
Do not come in, I beg you
I can not handle another cook,
throwing vitriolic in my stew,
and calling it sugar.
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