just trying to write songtexts to my firends and their band.
spelling mistakes!
flyng down town no more
feeling kind of sore
In the blood, on the stones,
lying in the mud,
it moans
oh, pretty thing take me with you ones more.
The way I jused to fly with messy wings
is the way to live and to appreciate little things
the kind of things
that you can't realy see
and cant realy crush
just pale pink cheeks that starts to blush
oh, can't I fly with you just ones more
Can't my life hide it self behind the stage
lur somewhere in the cages
and don't bother me anymore
facing a dying artiste in her bed
flying down town no more
feeling kind of sore
In the sheets, no stones,
down to her feets,
but she moans
oh, pretty thing take me with you ones more.
Poetry by Sofia
Read 737 times
Written on 2007-09-17 at 23:19
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spelling mistakes!
songtext number one.
facing a dying dove in the gutterflyng down town no more
feeling kind of sore
In the blood, on the stones,
lying in the mud,
it moans
oh, pretty thing take me with you ones more.
The way I jused to fly with messy wings
is the way to live and to appreciate little things
the kind of things
that you can't realy see
and cant realy crush
just pale pink cheeks that starts to blush
oh, can't I fly with you just ones more
Can't my life hide it self behind the stage
lur somewhere in the cages
and don't bother me anymore
facing a dying artiste in her bed
flying down town no more
feeling kind of sore
In the sheets, no stones,
down to her feets,
but she moans
oh, pretty thing take me with you ones more.
Poetry by Sofia
Read 737 times
Written on 2007-09-17 at 23:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
 by Sofia Latest textsColor: drabAbsently As If There Was Someone On the battlefield. Borders. |
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