Neznáma

With an aura of comfort Upon the moon I gaze An echo of love she croaks From a distant valley She speaks of sweet whisperings Born from the lips of a woman Summoned forth by temptation I scurry in lieu of the passion These sweet whisperings bring me Perhaps this woman may not ever Hear what I might say but, She's worth every breath Oh, how she haunts my memory so... The cause for my fear of the unknown Yet, dearly I still adore her And with a twinkle Into the dawn she faded... Misery and I are Destined to elope © 2011 (All rights reserved)