SICK METAPHORS | versione finale

The bride was no miss
With her veil naïve blue
Newly-wed had cuffs loose
And his bridges long burned

Here they let the words fade
And the melody melt
Sitting next to each other
On the dark solid chairs
Lost in candlelight
Only to feel…
Not existence, but life
Every step to get aim,
The new morning to shine
On the second part
Never in vain.

02/24/2020