jueves, diciembre 10

In my diaries,

Winter died between my thingers as the sand
crawled between a window and the door.
Surely she would try my words to deny
while you kill me with a feather down the stroking sun.

Missing those hands around mines or my wrist
chains, invisible as the wind that blows, locking my waists.
How did I come to suffer like this, I wonder if he really knows what I feel,
'cause I see in him the ray of light that iluminates my faith.

And the evil charmed the angel, oh and how it did
now the angel is about to throw itself from it's cloud,
but the evil doesnot care, it wants another angel to fall down.
As I did.

Pray for the angel's strengh so it'd stand up once more,
flying heart broken, burnt wings, back to it's Lord.
I find myself beggin my Lord, that you would let me know that you care
or that you don't. But at least, I'll know.

Maybe you weren't the frog that was supposed to be kissed,
and maybe I'd not have kissen you, but I felt you were meant to be (the one).
Only God know who the hell you might be in my life,
all I know is that in my diaries you will always be alive.

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