25 Haziran 2009 Perşembe

Catherine De Barra

.
.
You've murdered my thinking
I gave you my heart, you left the thing stinking
I'd shake from your spell if it weren't for my drinking
And the wind bites more bitter with each light of morning.
I envy the road, the ground you tread under,
I envy the wind, your hair riding over,
I envy the pillow, your head rests and slumbers,
I envy to murderous, envy your lover
'til the light shines on me
I damn to hell every second you breathe


2 yorum:

headcleaner dedi ki...

Catherine liked high places
High up on the hills
A place for making noises
Noises like the Whales
Here she built a chapel with
Her image on the wall
A place where she could rest and
A place where she could wash
and listen to the wind blow

PaigeMarshall dedi ki...

High up on a hill
She must be so lonely
Oh Mother, can't we give
A husband to our Catherine?
A handsome one, a dear
A rich one for the lady
Someone to listen with

ha hahahh a husband to our Catherine!