The breeze will take me away
On a Sunday morning
The sky is washed out
Into grey and white
Faint trace of smoke drifting through the window
Winged moths laying stiff on the sill
Sweet dreams of the night melt into the air
Along with the scents of your dark hair
With the days naked
The beams chilled
Lou Reed on the radio softly dies out
Into the dreamy background of a Sunday morning
I’m trying so desperately to get hold of it
Before the rain drops
And the night falls
28.8.2015
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
The breeze will take me away
On a Sunday morning
The sky is washed out
Into grey and white
Faint trace of smoke drifting through the window
Winged moths laying stiff on the sill
Sweet dreams of the night melt into the air
Along with the scents of your dark hair
With the days naked
The beams chilled
Lou Reed on the radio softly dies out
Into the dreamy background of a Sunday morning
I’m trying so desperately to get hold of it
Before the rain drops
And the night falls
28.8.2015
Some random thoughts on a Sunday morning.
