wings

You're taking off the party dress by a light touch,
I can see fresh scars on your smooth velvet skin.
And I want to cry from the pain or to forget myself in a dream
Where is your wings, which I used to like so much?

We had much time before, and now we have affairs
To prove that weak one feeds the hand that beats, to prove that smut is white
We all had lost something in this war full of unfair
Where are your wings which I used to like?


Рецензии