Beautiful Pagan

The wind that blows tonight, whispers like a ghost
Slipping through the fissures of the window
Fondling the skin of pagans that sleep sheltered by angels
Watching over their beauty, angels of death

Days and nights, time can only pass by
Roses grow in the desert, love goes for a present
Her eyes are shining like sun in the dusk
She puts a cold smile, bent with blood on the edge

by Alexander Foald

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