Eight Line Poem

The tactful cactus by your window
Surveys the prairie of your room
The mobile spins to its collision
Clara puts her head between her paws
They've opened shops down West side
Will all the cacti find a home
But the key to the city
Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky

Похожие новости.

Обрывки жизни уходят прочь Смотрю на солнце, а вижу ночь Лишь запах серы и стон глухой И кто-то рядом хрипит живой Не умирать! Приказ мне с неба надо встать Мне надо встать за тех юнцов Несостоявшихся

Too young [x4] Too young, Oh [x4] Girl the night's not over (Oh, too young) We're not getting older They can chase forever 'Cause in the morning there's a million names to choose from You don't

All aboard America here comes the freedon train All aboard America here comes the freedon train. The freedom train is rolling down two hundred years of track Two hundred years of glory never

You must be living on wildfires You must be living on wildfires That's why your eyes Are smoke and ash You must be living on earthquakes You must be living on earthquakes Must be why my

When I sit down and try to remember What my home is like I seem to be drifting in water No land in sight All my friends become nothing but names In my old adress