sexta-feira, 11 de novembro de 2016

A shoulder where death comes to cry



The rain falls down on last year's man, an hour has gone by and he has not moved his hand.
But everything will happen if he only gives the word;
the lovers will rise up and the mountains touch the ground.
But the skylight is like skin for a drum I'll never mend
and all the rain falls down amen on the works of last year's man.


Roma

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