The snow is melting on my lips
It's winter's cold and chilling kiss.
I'd rather have my soul burned up,
In hell's convinience in the dark.
This fire grows up in my heart,
It signed with legend phoenix mark -
I'll burn my tears up to steam,
And dip myself in luscious sin!
No one can save my poor soul,
No one can bring a piece of hope
The world became a silent film
And only wineglass makes it real.
The fire grows up in my heart,
I will reborn in this pitch black.
The snow is melting on my lips
© Copyright: Айнур Насретдинов, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119020107961
Свидетельство о публикации №119020107961
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