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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-11-25 | [Text in der Originalsprache: english] | Veröffentlicht von Ionescu Bogdan
Midnight
criminal metabolism of guilt forest Rattlesnakes whistles catcalls Remove me from this hall of mirrors This filthy glass Are you her Do you look like that How could you be when no one ever could Poet of the call-girl storm She left a note on the bedroom door. "If I'm out, bring me to." I dropped by to see you late last night But you were out like a light Your head was on the floor & rats played pool w/ your eyes Death is a good disguise for late at night Wrapping all its games in its calm garden But what happens when the guests return & all unmask & you are asked to leave for want of a smile I'll still take you then But I'm your friend
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