Life is only thinking about sound a
Butterflies fly around
Faster and harder
Smack them on the ground
Because of your father
He doesn’t like that sound
And when you falling
fingers are in his ears
Give him the color
And shout to him red
But even his eyes
Are faking dead
Were is everybody
This moment is nothing
It is only sound and color
Reacties op dit gedicht
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: vicfirth | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: michris | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 03 januari 2004 | ||
| Thema's: | ||