LYRIC

Saša Milivojev

A CRY

Apollo’s discus
Fine blond hair
The echo of the universe
The strong winds of Zephyr
The sun’s heat
Melted the wax wings
And I fall again
Why am I not a shadow
To be torn into two pieces
In the air
Why do I not have an apple instead of a heart
To have an arrow driven through it
Why is uncertainty so agonising
Let the blade cut the neck
A curse
A choir is singing
Purple colours of dreams
A verse fallen from the lips
The thirst of withered lilies
From whose petals
We will hear a woeful
Cry

Saša Milivojev

Tags:

Cry (13) - Milivojev (40) - Saša (41) - Spiritual (220)

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