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sad poetry

uno per uno, come va da un albero
la notte era nera e drear
i giorni hypocritic
mai in tutta la mia vita
glooms delle viv-quercie
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
non ci è fuga dal fiume
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
dove io trovili
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
tristemente parlando
li ha fatti mai vedono un coccodrillo


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