The Devil sleeps on your shoulder,
an Angel sings on the other one.
Your way to me seemed to be shorter,
illusions never be done.
An ice of the mirror shows to me
some grey instead fire of gold ,
tears are not falling down
and sun became stranger and cold.
You hold on the wand in the one hand,
the other one holds the sword .
The crowd bow their heads to you,
you seem to be King of the world.
But deep inside keeping the secret,
tender patterns of soul,
I never wanted to loose you,
but Sweetheart, you built up the wall.
The Devil wakes up on your shoulder,
an Angel stops singing his song,
Wild wind of Goodbye flows my Baby,
It’s howling and ripping my Soul.
02.06.2019
***
© Copyright: Сандра Роу, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120101006452
Свидетельство о публикации №120101006452
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