On a bed of white roses I lay down
And drown myself in their perfume
Feeling the soft touch of their petals
Imagining it’s yours.
The ceiling would be the sky
And the stars will tell us stories
And we will fall asleep
Into each other’s arms.
But wait I cannot dream
The image is becoming blurry
And my body is aching
And the pain is getting higher.
What have you done?
The bed was made of thorns
And you put the petals there
To trick me in believing
That you wanted me to be yours.
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu