Ether-Mariana in our Heads
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The fish swim. It's like a comet.
The sells sleep. They don't know that. The wind is stroking the grass.
Like in the old days
This times will be a sad slow poem that no one knows. One day when a voice echos, will the
dog also sow? The Birds are sad as if they were looking for them friends. There're stories in
the unloved landscape no one knows.
The small lake melts and the light drifts. There is a sign of something.
A small light poured into the river. There is a sign of something.
This times will be a sad and slow poem that no one knows.
There're stories in the unloved landscape no one knows.
The sells sleep. They don't know that. The wind is stroking the grass.
Like in the old days
This times will be a sad slow poem that no one knows. One day when a voice echos, will the
dog also sow? The Birds are sad as if they were looking for them friends. There're stories in
the unloved landscape no one knows.
The small lake melts and the light drifts. There is a sign of something.
A small light poured into the river. There is a sign of something.
This times will be a sad and slow poem that no one knows.
There're stories in the unloved landscape no one knows.
