Run through town on Sunday morning-
3 a.m. - where have you been?
Hour when the Past's returning -
Every shadow echoes mean;
Beds grow spikes and spit you out
To the World, that's far too wide,
World that always is about
Short-run distance with the night.
When thunder comes in late October-
You wish you hadn't lost your sleep;
The way you dream when you are sober,
The way I feel when night is deep..
At 3 a.m you feel like leaving-
The air smells of licorice;
You run away to keep believing,
But something deep inside denies.
3 a. m-Run
© Copyright: Лиза Ройт, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111031904855
Свидетельство о публикации №111031904855
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