We could hardly wait
There at the starting gate
Our horses had wings
The wind took us up
The wind took us high
We began to fly
We could hardly breathe
We could hardly wait
There at the starting gate
We closed our eyes
We fell from the sky
Now our bones are cold
Now our flowers are withered and old
Our world is made of papier-mâché
Discolored and gray
We could hardly breathe
We could hardly wait
There at the starting gate
The wind took us up
The wind took us high
We closed our eyes
We fell from the sky
No comments:
Post a Comment