Poezie
the colours of my skies
1 min lectură·
Mediu
like a fingerprint of fog on your skin
I lay on the orange field. The stoned hour
lights my bones to find out where I have been
I’m melting, my heart is becoming your favourite colour
like the leaves on a tree, the shivers on my spine
the light is resting in your eyes in the morning
you point at the sky, oh such a beautiful crime
the clouds may be cold, but the distance is burning
like a sinking ship my head falls in your hands
I see the light and I’m trying to run
but the air I’m breathing in suddenly beginning to bend
‘cause my conscience’s a trigger and my brain is a gun
but I never knew that the sun hides away and tries
to change the colours of my skies
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