streets with too familiar names
a different taste to what once was sweet
not enough words to tell a lie
an empty house can never be a home
a funeral behind a gas station
all can be found but not over here
drunken poetry with too much truth
these words may never die
a saturday can have a million mondays
picture this without the sound
not a sign never a miracle
this air is yours to breathe
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1 comment:
og 11 mandaga igjen til sommerferie..
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