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sad death poem

f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
quando você vier hoje à noite
os arcos da ponte vermelha
e pão do breaketh mais
traga-me a canção macia
eu quero saber onde você vive
as montanhas são povos silenciosos
o prado estava rastejando
diga-me não
para a verdade, para o amor
mulher boa
quem estará nomeando o vento
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays

 



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