И если ты веришь, что можешь писать о чем-то кроме секса, то мне жаль тебя, Рыба
To my valentine
.
All of the petals and thorns,
All of my wickedness' flows
- All for my baby.
.
All of the inches and blots,
All of the righties and wrongs
- All for my darling.
.
Ripping those frocks off my flesh
Leaving me bare for your stares
- That's only fair, honey.
.
I see a savage golden spark
Right at the bottom of the dark
And wide expanding pupil.
I wonder what that is: a brutal
Reflection akin to tools of liar?
Or is it genuine flame of real desire?