who is messing with the foliage:
the trees are dancing, crazily,
to your winds, by The Mirage.
Oh! How impatient
is the waiting on your clouds!
They open an empty space
through which the sun comes out:
With the power of its light
my eyes go nearly blind
so I close them to see it -
Like on the dreams awake
I'll have when remembering
my days in Bradford city...
"Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
ResponderExcluirThere beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit and meanwhile back..."
(The Beatles)