At the 50 +
An old lot
coming from the monotonic ringing melody of Graham Bell's
gone the days of childhood , adolescence and to breath sighs !ah the kisses for her lips and eyes to watch as she walked on pedestrian , how often she moves her curvy hips ,
What's ahead !anytime anywhere , even this very moment clocks could be locked always tightening the noose around , Death that only clips ,we're acting childish in our shells ,
In a trance kept lone , social gaining kilos of fats and accumulating distances ! Ah though miles we're apart but isolated and in love , dancing rhythmic on keys and board of Dell's ,
what's to hide how much we seek the harmony we lost in quest unreached as ever asking where the soul dwells ,
All exit reveals in each of thyself opened are the many hells
we are no more child but to act childish whenever in love , only it tells ,
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
At the 50 +
An old lot
coming from the monotonic ringing melody of Graham Bell's
gone the days of childhood , adolescence and to breath sighs !ah the kisses for her lips and eyes to watch as she walked on pedestrian , how often she moves her curvy hips ,
What's ahead !anytime anywhere , even this very moment clocks could be locked always tightening the noose around , Death that only clips ,we're acting childish in our shells ,
In a trance kept lone , social gaining kilos of fats and accumulating distances ! Ah though miles we're apart but isolated and in love , dancing rhythmic on keys and board of Dell's ,
what's to hide how much we seek the harmony we lost in quest unreached as ever asking where the soul dwells ,
All exit reveals in each of thyself opened are the many hells
we are no more child but to act childish whenever in love , only it tells ,
