Return to my demons,
Return to my Hell,
No questions, no secrets,
Just falling in cell.
Just dance on the ashes
Of a beautiful mind,
Believe me, it's prescious,
When soul is not blind.
When priest start his prayer,
Remember that pain,
Which poisoned air,
And killed your brain.
And God ask with whisper:
- How old are you, son?
- I'm older than Easter,
But, younger, than Sun.
Return to my demons,
Return to my scars,
That power is brilliance,
This friends just a scum.
Return to my Demons
© Copyright: Майкл Зиновьев, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122072705185
Свидетельство о публикации №122072705185
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