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father poem

como uma vela branca
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
eu era um goddess ere o mármore me encontrou
eu sou uma mulher
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
o mestre de destinies humanos Ă© mim
short e doce, e nĂłs viemos Ă  extremidade dela
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha

 



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