The night is setting in to blow
scores the windowpane with snow
out of reach of hand
on human avenues across a sea
What heart can ever know itself
through each door a spectral frame
movements vanish in the air
violet colors through the glass
a hundred words to pass the day
each of us making to the light
A hundred words to pass the day
yet not a word to tell the tale
What heart can ever know itself.
Deleyaman еще тексты
Оценка текста
Статистика страницы на pesni.guru ▼
Просмотров сегодня: 1