Cracow
Sell a windy day let the sun stay walk among the gardens a small price to pay, go out and catch the moon there you'll find your golden rune a creature in the dark controls your every thought silence you will sway and devote your last day. This trail you have to find non believers stay behind, sip upon the wine its here you cross the line white noises you are blind a wise man of our time. With words you have been born with roses your adorn. Go out into the sea and lay claim on all you see mighty is the hand that feeds mercy in the body that bleeds eyes of many lights go out and steal the night return to Cracow on such day this is when the angels will pray.
Copyright © Cole Beck | Year Posted 2010
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