In a country so grey and so cold, on the wet crumbling sand,
A few days before it first started snowing,
My fingers all crooked with frost, with infinite care
I drew kind of portraits of yours.
You know if I ever take pictures of them
And send them to you, you will probably say,
You'll say, "Let it burn, along with your pain,
Tonight I'm up to something that matters more."
I wish I could crawl on my knees, a shadow of a man,
Could crawl at your feet and the sky, vast and ruthless..
The clouds tumbling down onto your head, like bombs, that's how they think
Spring is at last to drag come.
You know, may have something gone wrong,
Although I could well change the weather, you'll probably say,
You'll say, "Let it burn, along with your pain,
Tonight I'm up to something that matters more."
Let it burn. Ор. Гори это все, Мумий Тролль
© Copyright: Кей Фоксли, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113012805831
Свидетельство о публикации №113012805831
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