Your paws made a print
"When you die" by Säkert!
*I throw dirt on your coffin
I've noticed that's how you do
I mumble, wonder about the Gods
Who I don't believe in, at all.
I whisper into the pillow,
what's the point with all of this?
We could just as fine returned to
that you would still exist,
that you would be here.
If the dirth I threw would grow,
become a grain over your grave.
Then they would say, in a hundred years:
Never that a grain would be cut down.
'Cause they will tell you that's the best tree
the town has ever known.
And so can everything that once were you
still be here for,
those who will arrive later.
Or they will cut you down either way.
And turn you to paper wood in the factory.
In that case I would start write letters with pencil again.
In that case, I would write you wealthy
Kommentarer
Postat av: maria
Blogga mer snygging! Vill ta del av ditt år i Amerika :D Saknar dig btw <3
Svar:
Moa F. Ekblad
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