How comfortably, how peaceful
I am sleeping in this night
how cosily and sheltered
I am slumbering untight
Like enschrouded in silk
floating on clouds in the sky
It's warm and soft
like cotton-wool filled
And like a second life
Adapts to me entirely
and lets me rest inside it
a bed that can do such a thing
one should hold in safe custody
and the bedding: better hide it
But unfortunatly it's not the bed
not the structure of the rack
It could be a simple cot
or just a camp bed, hard and small
Cause if you lie in it with me
I'll be salvaged in them all
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Comments
Anyhow, this is a lovely piece I think, and the ending...well, it gives all the other lines their meaning. I know the feeling too
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Tongue-tied twisted...Just an earth-bound misfit
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It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors! Oscar Wilde.
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Tongue-tied twisted...Just an earth-bound misfit
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It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors! Oscar Wilde.
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You can close your eyes from the things you don’t want to see but you can never close your heart from the things you don't want to feel
Italian is cool, french also, but it's harder to get used to the only slightly vayiing pronounciation, I'd say...
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It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors! Oscar Wilde.
--
You can close your eyes from the things you don’t want to see but you can never close your heart from the things you don't want to feel
--
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors! Oscar Wilde.
--
You can close your eyes from the things you don’t want to see but you can never close your heart from the things you don't want to feel
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