'Cause it starts a dream defferred
A clipped wing on a white dove
Seems absurd, a smudge on a white glove
Not seen nor heard like screams from the night's lungs
Cling to words so much that you won't budge
Fiends in herds who yearn for the white crumbs
Gettin high like the city sky when it lights up
Thats what the night does
It hits your mind with the right stuff
To keep you blind with a slight buzz!
Няма коментари:
Публикуване на коментар