segunda-feira, 3 de setembro de 2007


talk to the hand, 'cause the face is not listening.

2 comentários:

RK disse...

Como diz uma música que adoro, de cradle of filth. Lovesick for Mina.

One might see in Mina
My disease
But it was She who has infected me
For all eternity...

As the sun slips the tearaway stars
Into the scented scheme of night
I kissed her mouth like a dark red rose
Set upon a marbled dream of white
So pure of thought like a Vestal statue
Jewelled with a God-lent grace
I was close to coming when she bid adieu
Fuelled by heartache rent upon her face there

Anônimo disse...

lindo.