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lost love poem

ne tournez pas votre tête
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
j'ai aimé une femme
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
il y a un pays complètement de vin
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc

 



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