Κυριακή 4 Νοεμβρίου 2007

withering heights.

cold leaves from a burning sand..
silence rides the wind to a brand new day..
high above where the mountains stay..
out of the fog that falls like his jealousy..
two hearts possessing the chateaus of the withering heights..
the only master in the room.. comes back as a butterfly..
to his home as clear as u see the rain from a window..
its clear.. its me into your window..

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