I hold on to your cold pale hands
lest he fall from a ladder to heaven
I hold on to your cold pale hands
not to fall down the stairs leading to hell
Let me finish what I started
it is not only my end of the century.
on the dark streets of lone wolves
drink the blood of his latest victim
in their bodies souls to the devil
in love with the beautiful angels.
I keep feeling the searing kiss lips
to pretend to live in the human masquerade
I keep feeling the searing kiss lips
pretend to be asleep in the cradle of peace
let me start what I wanted
it is not only my death times.
Masquerade
© Copyright: Маргарита Дудина, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111122400191
Свидетельство о публикации №111122400191
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