Santiago_del_Alba
Poeta recién llegado
Up in a hill
someone scream.
In a lost of his blood,
by a silent feel.
May be can you hear,
then go and look,
this will be
your last time here.
There in the face
is not sight;
in his mouth
nothing breath.
Can you sense
the dark lord?
If this is a yes,
you are death.
Touch your heart,
is in there?
Feel your blood
is running again.
The soul is leaving
the now corpse.
In your old home
something is cold.
Up in a hill,
someone scream.
Go and see
if you can help.
I let you go,
you are my treat.
Up there in the hill,
I live.
someone scream.
In a lost of his blood,
by a silent feel.
May be can you hear,
then go and look,
this will be
your last time here.
There in the face
is not sight;
in his mouth
nothing breath.
Can you sense
the dark lord?
If this is a yes,
you are death.
Touch your heart,
is in there?
Feel your blood
is running again.
The soul is leaving
the now corpse.
In your old home
something is cold.
Up in a hill,
someone scream.
Go and see
if you can help.
I let you go,
you are my treat.
Up there in the hill,
I live.
::