Inside the entrails
Of the poets
There is an obsession
Who bites the afternoon
Chews the sky
And burps the heart
Between wolves and claws
br/>I become
In an odyssey of love
Sacrosanct and macabre
It is my spirit that plays
With my voice
The valley of faithful souls
They guard the night
In their walk
The signs of sin lie
They are reverends to love
They will die before my grace
In my bitterness they will exist

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS