harnoor11Heyy!!! Would you like to publish yourself as an co-author in a book? I really liked this stuff of yours . We are in search of co-authors for the book to complete and the theme is friendship. If interested please reply back. Thank you
Tonight, when my last verses smell like gray fairy tales under your window, don't wake up in vain. I know you won't be happy in this world of money faked smiles and pain. Where heads fall and history fades. At least try not to be prey in all this, be a hunter. I've certainly been crazy for a long time. My loneliness is a ship sailing into the abyss. In me is the wind ran away from the moon and the barks of stray dogs. There are letters in me, that instead of a heart, in something stab the dart.
Tonight, when my last words ring in your ears, like empty stories, don't wake up in vain. There is no us anymore, it's a pattern. All that's left is the same smile, like one scar on two faces. You and me- like a wind and the plain. The night is in me, like a whisper in the grave, out of me comes the banging of nonsense, that instead of a heart, somehow sense impart.
You still keep a secret, and hide the gleam in your eyes, when you meet me again in the antique shop of all those years I gave you, and which you gave me. Maybe those distances will eat us, we may become eternal. Shine tonight, like a meteor rain, that instead of a heart, something falling apart.
Tonight, when my lies hit your memories loudly, like a lighting strike, don't wake up in vain. I haven't had songs to buy you again, Only my conscience is still playing in me, like when the army marches, that instead of a heart, remains a piece of art.
Tonight, when you see me in those shadows on the wall, don't wake up in vain, you will bring back memories, you will bring chaos in your head. you will bring back everything you forgot. Like a civil war on the street, instead of my heart, something's beat.
Tonight, We keep up a masquerade. Treacherous eyes, A pair of lying hearts, And two debilitated souls. They come together; With bouquets of lilies and ferns, The scent of freshness masking The rottenness of lies. An intricately woven metaphor Falling on their lips Blanketed by the sweet venom They dance to the silent beat Dragging their feet Each feet pushing the other pair to the edge Of the dark deep cliff.