Glory flicks a lighter
Drags a bowl and sighs the smoke
Singing, drifting
Her numbered notes
My name she sings
Soft as whispering
Last night startled white she spoke
I see time with my old eyes closed
Memories rebel-hued wind-battered petaled I don't knows
They are my flowers in a field of snow
Last night startled white she spoke
I see time with my old eyes closed
Memories rebel-hued wind-battered petaled I don't knows
They are my flowers in a field of snow
When in bed, rosy red she said
I've an odd old body with a stranger head
But when that familiar dream unfolds, I am not scared to go
To see my flowers in a field of snow
They are flowers in a field of snow

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS