Pieces of a jigsaw on the floor
They don't fit my head,
There's just no room for them
It's useless to try
Too late again,
Too late again
I began to feel like the weather,
From a warmth breeze,
A sudden storm,
It rains on the jigsaw that laid on you bed
The flood breaks it apart,
And soon there's nothing there
14 de maio de 2009
Assinar:
Postar comentários (Atom)
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário