Here we go down to well of ashes
Down the misty dream of flashy meadows
He`s desensitized to pain and pleasure
On his very dead of crimson moon

Here we go to the land of no return
Where no one knows you`re out of grace boy
Where we`re all out of disgrace, man
When we turn

And when the god is on his way to heaven
And when the sun is dying out of haven
When the crow cries not to be a fugitive
Children sing a cold song of mine

by Siavash Rostami

Other poems of ROSTAMI (2)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.