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mother poem

eu sou o vento que wavers
se eu souber o narrow uma prisão é amor
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
vinho velho a beber
o que nós fará agora
quando você vier hoje à noite
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
e com o pássaro humming
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
o prado estava rastejando
um history muito notável isto é
o mais saddest do ano
diga-me
o doce com fern e levantou-se

 



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