كلمات Offset

Clusters of fragrant stars Your prisoner My familiar dream On the corner, in the old street Two ghosts, too cowardly Remember our mad delight? Eyes accustomed to less white All the trembling, the air too sweet All the despair of your hair All is false and vain But your name... Only fools endure At our Sunday best on the battlements We would give the world the lie Eight years in the rift The fiend on the cliff Wants to teach us to fly