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She has sieved eyes.
Like a nocturnal and tropical garden behind a ball of light.
Dangerous unwatered flowers, on dark golden skin.
A deposit of susceptibility in a repetitive softness.
Abandon yourself, in some reflections of moonlight.
In reflections with arrogant airs, with solitary waves.
A world below the surface.
The colors far from the void.
Millions of small steps in a jar of life.
Tables of joys and liquid seats.
Expressions of fortunes when the eyes are naked.
We pour the thickness over thin platforms.
Power in a shower of agility.
Skeletons almost freed from confidence.
Switches in frames digging into sleeping angers.
I hear Mars and his Gospel.
I want you to be my sail.
The sweetness in your neck, an anchor in the turquoise reefs.
The ghosts follow us, become young again.
And the few demons get out from intersections.
I hear Mars and his Gospel.
The whispers and their tentacles.
She has sieved eyes.
Like a nocturnal and tropical garden behind a ball of light.
Dangerous unwatered flowers, on dark golden skin.
A deposit of susceptibility in a repetitive softness.
Abandon yourself, in some reflections of moonlight.
In reflections with arrogant airs, with solitary waves.
A world below the surface.
The colors far from the void.
Millions of small steps in a jar of life.
Tables of joys and liquid seats.
Expressions of fortunes when the eyes are naked.
We pour the thickness over thin platforms.
Power in a shower of agility.
Skeletons almost freed from confidence.
Switches in frames digging into sleeping angers.
I hear Mars and his Gospel.
I want you to be my sail.
The sweetness in your neck, an anchor in the turquoise reefs.
The ghosts follow us, become young again.
And the few demons get out from intersections.
I hear Mars and his Gospel.
The whispers and their tentacles.
She has sieved eyes.
Like a nocturnal and tropical garden behind a ball of light.
Dangerous unwatered flowers, on dark golden skin.
A deposit of susceptibility in a repetitive softness.
Abandon yourself, in some reflections of moonlight.
In reflections with arrogant airs, with solitary waves.
A world below the surface.
The colors far from the void.
Millions of small steps in a jar of life.
Tables of joys and liquid seats.
Expressions of fortunes when the eyes are naked.
We pour the thickness over thin platforms.
Power in a shower of agility.
Skeletons almost freed from confidence.
Switches in frames digging into sleeping angers.
I hear Mars and his Gospel.
I want you to be my sail.
The sweetness in your neck, an anchor in the turquoise reefs.
The ghosts follow us, become young again.
And the few demons get out from intersections.
I hear Mars and his Gospel.
The whispers and their tentacles.