To wait for the sound of your voice in my ear,
The wind flowing through my hair.
A dream that may once be accomplished,
To not think, to not wish, nor care.
Of all the things I could ever imagine,
You were never one of them.
For I am nothing but unpleasant,
Transparent, like a dreary gem.
The wind flowing through my hair.
A dream that may once be accomplished,
To not think, to not wish, nor care.
Of all the things I could ever imagine,
You were never one of them.
For I am nothing but unpleasant,
Transparent, like a dreary gem.
No comments:
Post a Comment