July's Blog
Night in London By JulyAutumn should be lone and sadYet, Tames now floods a Spring tideSub at Charles Crossroad now becomes the gate to heavenPeople rush in least to be left behindVirginia Woolf never diedAnd already, the ghost of Karl Max transformed into a fleeing birdComing from the pubtunes of a strange land Oh, why should MY lifetime undulate in the face of other lad?Hard I tried, in the midst of fallen leavesto make my way homesteadYet, how all the road posts point me to an missed end
Sorry,last sentence should be:"point me to a lost end"
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Night in London
By July
Autumn should be lone and sad
Yet, Tames now floods a Spring tide
Sub at Charles Crossroad
now becomes the gate to heaven
People rush in least to be left behind
Virginia Woolf never died
And already, the ghost of Karl Max
transformed into a fleeing bird
Coming from the pub
tunes of a strange land
Oh, why should MY lifetime
undulate in the face of other lad?
Hard I tried, in the midst of fallen leaves
to make my way homestead
Yet, how all the road posts
point me to an missed end
Sorry,
last sentence should be:
"point me to a lost end"
Post a Comment