On the steep incline
we sip moonshine,
forget our woes of the day
where in the muddy field
sheep did yield
to rest our aching feet.
Sun rays cut the wind
in a cloud soaked sky
that the past three days
did nothing but cry.
We rejoice with baguettes
on the great precipice
where the sea becomes the sky.
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
On the steep incline
we sip moonshine,
forget our woes of the day
where in the muddy field
sheep did yield
to rest our aching feet.
Sun rays cut the wind
in a cloud soaked sky
that the past three days
did nothing but cry.
We rejoice with baguettes
on the great precipice
where the sea becomes the sky.
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