Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Ripping off Poe

A sunflower shutters on the hillside
and my love is down by the sea.
We ran in this golden field, on this solemn hill
But I can’t find her now, were can she be

We road in jingling gypsy carts
singing, with fearless hearts in soft darkness
laughing with wine, as it takes us.
Even the sun grows cold, without that caress

I can see her gold and red velvet in her hair
burnt rose and lavender, spill form burning censors
Soft candles cast her face in golden light
fade, and in darkness her eyes grow an ashen colour

I can’t cast away her eyes anymore, she waits by the sea
down by the seaside I will run, for she is waiting on me

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