Mrs. moon

The ruins rise up again lonely
the odd moon. So lonely, he may be
which is wrapped around the words
dancing in the world.
Considers it around and capture the essence of a new dawn
to rise.
Dance the night sky while it Mrs. Moon,
naurusuu spherical red-lipped?

The mild winter after all it was just here, but already faded away.
Warm weather, if it is here, we always have you.
I am the domestic pigeon, in your own flock only
which I have not even, it is the last in the pecking order.

Again, I do not know if I was awake at all times,
or Did I go to sleep sometimes.
It's the same fatigue, is looking for a place inside of me,
and for some memories of yesterday,
reflected back to the hallway mirror.
My mind and its a short flight between the clichéd words,
whether in the way, and the truth, the dreams of yesterday?
Often, the loneliness inside me to dig a huge pit.
Joined by a friend, needs verbal,
where the carnality of power for some part of the handle squeeze.
The strange hypnotic gaze, it needs inside resident
sky, and love rocking March.