What can I do
i´ve been trying i´ve been trying
what I can´t do and I won´t
this small sense of scent
is to much for just one
always in my darkest hole
always behind the backdoor
and snow in july is my love
everywhere descending snow
makes me mysteriously feel whole
the lonely lust in his cell
that I used to smell
with such great hope and heaven
is just five miles away
from whiskey and cigarettes
thinking was bearable when
i was a child but not now
every hour is a moment
of so many frail sorrows
I think I love you so much
it´s like suffocating in icy water
when all lights have gone out.
Ef einhver les þetta, þá er þetta frekar persónulegt og ég veit ekki alveg afhverju ég er að setja þetta hingað inn í staðin fyrir eitthvað af þessum svona þrjúhundruð ljóðum sem ég á en ég var bara að semja þetta og skítkast er afþakkað.
Þetta er reyndar meira svona lagatexta eðlis en ljóð.