My machine on his and his dining table
I wanna take a run but guess little unable
I am just a sand in their castle
God where do you catch
One rattle that could bring me home
One rattle that could make this discomfort done
Just a sand in their castle
And he kills so well
And he kills so bad
He kills so long
And he kills so well
Boy I am silent may I say quiet done
Bed and Breakfast paid by a wallet
Of these salty words
Dying under your sheets
Every second I think of home
Boy I got my Sundays out there
Don’t you know that don’t you know
I don’t want a walk Blondy suggests I’ll be going off
So where do you catch one rattle
That could bring me home
One rattle that could give Machine Served back its form
Am I dripping down drying out a sea
And yes she’s a cutie on this earth
We all agree but may I be released cos aunts will whisper
To Him On The Wall
As they’re all around they won’t know your name
Cos they’ve got a work here to do
Balls and Candies in a Tree
Tricky cinnamon in the air
So it is on their fingertops as well
Cos they’ve got a work here to do
Little breasty prayers crying
Where do you catch one rattle
That could bring him home
One rattle that could make him well
Ratteling Cocco as You’re just sitting
Upon your
It must be a comfortable chair
Catching my waves she starts with she isn’t there
While he kills so well
And he kills so bad
And he kills so long
Still I’m not quiet done think of home
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Drazen Boskic.
Published on e-Stories.org on 07/02/2006.
More from this category "General" (Poems in english)
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