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• Artiste: Meanwhile, Back in Communist Russia...
• Titre: Anatomies
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
I don't know what I'm thinking. Deep purple, a little black and a perfect figure And your trust; I don't believe a word you say, Picture postcard to hell. At Windsor Cafe, here with the tea scalding me through, Singeing my skin, singing; singing in the drizzle; And the pidgeons, incense the wreckage of amusements long gone. How are you taking this? Skin warm through fat brick Wasp, nettles stinging above our heads. Everytime my coat is a blanket. I'm not sure what you think of me now. And the wine, red and white, flashing on and off like blood flying under the skin; And the noise of it all, clamoring in my ears. I clench my teeth around cigarettes, and the duvet that's not my own. I feel there must be something behind this; peel, peel the layers away, Scarlet surrounding me. Flesh, bright white against the back The smell of the canvas draws me in; touched, touched by the movements springing under the skin, Words surround waterfalls, but washed away, Trace my spine, undulating, and I flinch away. I feel there must be something behind this; peel, peel the layers away, Scarlet surrounding me. Flesh, bright white against the back The smell of the canvas draws me in, and I am touched, touched by the movements springing under the skin, Words surround waterfalls, but washed away, Trace my spine, undulating, and I flinch away.