It's about the clouds
It's about a flying bird
And the red country outside
when november ends
It's about the sound
of a kiss in an empty room
(Growing and growing and growing
like a thunderstorm)
It's about me fighting
alone
in a desert churchyard
Among the trees a blind soul
A damage
A pain,
A sting
Considering the blade
Of dark light in your eyes
(Fix it honey
You need that )
It's my heart bleeding
Because of the rotten apples
In your orchard
Bless you
No regrets
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