Sometimes I really wonder,
What would it be like,
To be like a thunder,
Always ready to strike.
And yet there are days,
Whit this simple blue sky.
And warm sunny rays,
That make me wanna fly.
There are also some nights,
When stars seem like flakes,
And moon slowly glides
Upon reflection in lake.
Beauty really has no limits,
Every given present time,
There's always chance to seize it,
Words like thunder, strike with rhyme.
All I see is nights follow days,
Or the other way around.
We are dust in the space,
In the train, Nowhere-bound.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
Sometimes I really wonder,
What would it be like,
To be like a thunder,
Always ready to strike.
And yet there are days,
Whit this simple blue sky.
And warm sunny rays,
That make me wanna fly.
There are also some nights,
When stars seem like flakes,
And moon slowly glides
Upon reflection in lake.
Beauty really has no limits,
Every given present time,
There's always chance to seize it,
Words like thunder, strike with rhyme.
All I see is nights follow days,
Or the other way around.
We are dust in the space,
In the train, Nowhere-bound.
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