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Feb 2019
Branches are torn and roots are drawn
all along the grey forest
The air is cold, brings down the scent
of wicked things the wind caressed
No one could tell you what may hide
on blank spaces on higher ground
As flowers burn and painters rot
sounds are coming from all around

The moon just missed us by a mile
the sun is set to die again
alone with all our broken minds
chasing shadows near the candlelight

You thought you'd come to play some game
well get down here and read some minds
you'll see there's not much left to find
chasing shadows near the candlelight

Branches are torn still and roots draw
further down the grey forest
And yet the colder wind still sings
stories our voices once caressed
No one could tell you what we say
with these strange words we shout along,
make into headlines, black and white
Laughter's coming from all around

The moon just missed us by a mile
The sun was set to die again
alone with all our buzzing minds
chasing shadows near the candlelight
Please teach me ironie
Written by
Pointless Circle  26/M/France
(26/M/France)   
1.4k
   Fawn
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