The cars burn
The strings sing spraying the light
I’ll come here again and I’ll learn
This is John’s night
I’ll fall down
Your skin sliding under my sting
Now be the king but don’t lose your crown
My sweetest thing
Left his shame
When he says ‘Yes’ he knows he is right
Who is embracing him? This is his fame
This is John’s night
And you play
Under the Pollock’s painting clearing my jail
Your diamond guitar, what to do, where’s the way
Just not to fail?
You’re the best
You’re born in the stars shining bright
There’s steel in my grip and gold on your chest
In this John’s night
(dedicated to John Squire)
John s Night
© Copyright: Танцующая Бритва, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108073001401
Свидетельство о публикации №108073001401
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