Day will turn to night
For all the sinners
Of the World.
Life has no more fight,
And no more winners
To be sold.
Can you see what have we done?
Who will pay the bills?
How could we lose
The gift divine?
Why did we ever cross the line?
We had to choose.
We sang the prayer.
But our Heaven was not there.
You will sail alone.
Your blood-red waters
Will recede.
I will cast the stone
To crash your fortress,
Mow your weed.
Do you want to save your soul
From the inner hell?
© Andrew Mosckalev, 28.07.2012
Gift Divine
© Copyright: Андрей Москалёв, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112081502194
Свидетельство о публикации №112081502194
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