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funny poem

abaixo do helm do guerreiro
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
uma vida na onda do oceano
acima dos prados ricos com milho
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
em números mournful
macia agora a luz do dia
do assoalho ao teto
quem ama a chuva
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio

 



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