Fell asleep in a shelter made out of old junk after the storm no clue where we’re flying to, feeling so anxious each spring time we’re flapping about like plastic bags.The ghosts banished from my diary which I burnt in early summer
A rustling sound in the corridor somewhere in my heart through the frosted window if I was aware of the eyes behind the lens. How would I sing?
Golden reflections of our life in the afternoon sunlight chocolates melting in my pocket, by making it a song can I keep thе memory? I just came to love it now thе two lines come close and then get away some easy tricks on Cat’s Cradle that I can’t do so well any more on a musical stave seasons pass so fast each spring time we’re floating there like balloons. The ghosts banished from my diary which I burnt in early summer. A rustling sound in the corridor somewhere in my heart through the frosted window if I was aware of the eyes behind the lens, how would I sing
Golden reflections of our life in the afternoon sunlight chocolates melting in my pocket
By making it a song can I keep the memory? I just came to love it now.
