The orangey sun would soon die,
Dipping in the warm open oceans
Black unfeathered birds would fly,
Accompanied with teeth of draconians
The blue sky would be painted black,
And rounded moon would be lighted up
Little suns would start to spark,
With the cricket sounds, abrupt
After 12 rounds of the shorter hand,
The ball of fire will start blazing back
And by the shore, I would stand
Still, wide smiles and plenty laughs I lack
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
The orangey sun would soon die,
Dipping in the warm open oceans
Black unfeathered birds would fly,
Accompanied with teeth of draconians
The blue sky would be painted black,
And rounded moon would be lighted up
Little suns would start to spark,
With the cricket sounds, abrupt
After 12 rounds of the shorter hand,
The ball of fire will start blazing back
And by the shore, I would stand
Still, wide smiles and plenty laughs I lack
