To all the faded yellow of my stories,
A song floats backwards in full glory
Fitting along the lines to ease the misery
For the faded part is love, yellow being me.
Sounds similar to the tunes of long past notify
My screen as a new evening dawns beneath the sky
In a land where dusk never really settles,
Fairytales, like a water cannon drench me in Sunlight.
Like a matchstick that burns more than its peers
Like a woman who shines over an indistinguishable chorus
Like a raindrop that evaporates before hitting the tar
Like a traveler who remains in each destination forever ...
You are that moment which weighs more than any souvenir.
A song floats backwards in full glory
Fitting along the lines to ease the misery
For the faded part is love, yellow being me.
Sounds similar to the tunes of long past notify
My screen as a new evening dawns beneath the sky
In a land where dusk never really settles,
Fairytales, like a water cannon drench me in Sunlight.
Like a matchstick that burns more than its peers
Like a woman who shines over an indistinguishable chorus
Like a raindrop that evaporates before hitting the tar
Like a traveler who remains in each destination forever ...
You are that moment which weighs more than any souvenir.
No comments:
Post a Comment