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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-12-05 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
laying
on top of the world or something big, anyway I sit by the window and my fingertips crawl on cold glass you’re on the other side but most of the time you’re not and my fingertips carry on crawling minute by minute another hour most days riding this black stallion I am unsaddled unhinged unable to be stopped and there’s no peace embracing my thighs his harness digging through flesh keep riding I say to myself and let this wind show you mercy blowing the hair of your troubled face keep riding and let this rain wash the burning desert on your lips and I ride this stallion into the horizon and beyond minute by minute another hour most days sitting by the window fingertips crawling on cold glass people are staring through let them
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