segunda-feira, 6 de agosto de 2012

Sweet Moonlight

Lady mistress, your eyes are brown,
Crazy bats, wings on the ground,
Have you fallen inside the flowers,
Or have you dyed your hair on the top,
Of those towers?

Her hair is sometimes curvy,
I can smell the honey bee,
She gets close to me, I feel nervy.
She was leading me to see,
And to feel the nightly haze,
That would induce my glaze.

Bright phantoms near her blinds,
She tells me how it winds.
The dark towers are her room,
Where she brushes her gloom,
When she leans to the ground,
The pretty bats will fill her eyes very brown.

A hundred birds who call her name,
She won't answer, it's not her game,
But she will tell you nameless things,
And all of you shall fall between her wings;
Her glance capable of loving kings.


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