BLOND the lilac years
We are many of today´s generation of broken dreams oh Harlem´s pain at break of day of high and low removed we say from quick reality that comes and goes as harsch black snow eddies the concrete jungle and fades away
We are many who stride the sunlit coast of shimmering sands of BLOND of celluloid fairylands blanketed in swirling mists and pierced by sighing thighs heaving broken promises of lost tomorrow
We are many who stuffed with useless information whilst meditating fornication wonder why the sirens wall with mass destruction resurrecting crucifixion and raising up an age old question did Christ die to save as all? Our gentle willow weeps as snowflakes fall fall we with said despair of lost tomorrow
Tacksamt motses allt som kan göra denna sida bättre!