Делать на английском мне традиционно было нечего... и родилось это.
The saints look from your eyes,
That grey and cold as ice.
You're gracefuly and thin,
I like to tauch pale skine.
Your voice is gentle and calm,
Its sounds lull and charm.
I like to hear your talks...
I like to comb your locks,
My dear, I like your name,
I know, you feel the same.
@музыка:
Damned And Divine - Tarja
@темы:
Стихи,
Я