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poetry poem

ich stand
stieg und Bernstein war der Sonnenuntergang auf dem FluĂź
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
ein Vogel sang
wenn der Wind gegen uns in der Dunkelheit arbeitet
auf und ab geht ihn
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
ich habe die Welt geworfen
von Song und Traum fĂĽr ĂĽberhaupt gegangen
ich loathed Sie
gibt es jedes dort
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich

 



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