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epic poetry

die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
die Sonne ist oben
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
gebildet vom loveliness alleine
der Schnee whispers über mich
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
für Wahrheit für Liebe
auf und an
weiße Schaumgummiblume, rote Flammeblume
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
voll von den Rissen
melancholische Tage sind gekommen

 



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