كلمات Little Crimes

Little Crimes : The rhymes in the trees Are old and diseased, But, oh, they sound so pretty to me. The children wait in line With jars of alkaline To place at the feet of the Glorious Spine. All the little crimes That brighten their lives Made them dance Like widows against An iridescent sky Where the oceans collide And shower the land With fire again The minions of the wind Cough and spin, Rattle the cages of the invalids. The convalescing rhymes Embalm their own minds And take to the waves of an infinite sea. All the little crimes that brighten their lives Made them dance like widows against An iridescent sky where the oceans collide And shower the land with fire again.