The Word
My silent speech was mumbling like a shade
And touching shimmers of the dancing moonlight willow...
...Stuck in your heart like slumbery grenade.
*** *** ***
The stick may kill as well as gun
when it's not steel
But verbal one.
And touching shimmers of the dancing moonlight willow...
...Stuck in your heart like slumbery grenade.
*** *** ***
The stick may kill as well as gun
when it's not steel
But verbal one.
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