By M.B.V
I hate you, but miss your nights, Your moon, your stars at midnights… The distant homes and their lights… Calm is what I feel in these sigh… Shy smiles,
As you stand, your majestic figure… The crystallized towers gleam in s… But I, in my misery, drown in thi… You tore apart families and watche… And reunited others as they celebr…
I gave my heart to Leon, Dreams of him haunt me till dawn, His eyes were as green as neon. I have been lost and him long gone… Torturing me...
When I will leave this town, When the sun will shine, I will bask in the Dawn, By La Jolla Shores. By then,
“For what can awaken An angel so soon Whose sleep hath been taken Beneath the cold moon.” —Edgar Allan Poe, “Al Aaraaf”
On a Sunday afternoon, As smoke fills the room, Billie sings about her lover. He left for Chicago, A slow, mournful melody,
As you called me sublime, You drove me into the light That took me to a paradise, To a realm of pure delusion It was a façade of delight.