I will write of the dust,
clogging the fissures which remain.
A mental cleaning, of grey cells,
should not happen, anytime soon,
unless the Moon is my objective.
No more romance, no more love
of another, just the Lord above.
I will write of the dust,
clogging the fissures which remain.
A mental cleaning, of grey cells,
should not happen, anytime soon,
unless the Moon is my objective.
No more romance, no more love
of another, just the Lord above.