Englische Gedichte
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Eat the poor/My hands are of thy color
Yeah I know
We should eat the rich
that kill the poor
But I`m afraid we got a heart too white
...
Declare me
soul of a wolf
living in a pack
an yet a loner`s heart
If you touch me I`ll bite
If you come close to me I`ll run away
So call me lycein
lost in a wolf`s heart
Mit einigen künstlerischen Freiheiten
Standing on a rock
Looking after her dreams going with the wind.
And she dies in the moment
When the wind is taking her dreams away
Her Fairyland is ...
She’s lying in the grass
smiling softly
though a little sad
eyes shut
Sun’s lighting
her white skin
He’s sitting paces away
in a shade, though nothing is
wich shadow gives
Bent and pale
gazi...
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