I’ve got a bad disease
But from my brain is where I bleed.
Insanity it seems
Has got me by my soul to squeeze.
Well all the love from thee
With all the dying trees I scream.
The angels in my dreams
Have turned to demons of greed that’s mean.
Vor v Zakone
But now it’s quiet and I can hear you saying,
‘My little fish dont cry, my little fish dont cry.’
La verità del mattino costituisce l’errore della sera