THE end of love, gone with the wind,
not coming back, and if it does, its to
get the rest of her stuff, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
the end of love, from passion to ice,
the bottle empty, the wine poured out,
the music dead, gone, the only thing
talking is the clock, tic, tic, and tic,
ding dong, this love is dead, , , , this
love is dead, , , this love is dead.
I KNOW YOU TOO WELL, MY FRIEND..ALWAYS WITH A SONG IN THE COCKLES OF YOUR CORTEX....THOUGH A SHORT WRITE....tHIS STILL MAKES FOR SOME ARSE-CRANKIN REPETITIVE LYRICS, DOSEN'T IT NOW, DAVID? ! DING, DONG, THE WITCH IS DEAD '68 / uno-shot artist'''''''''''''''''''FJR
Sorry, David I feel bad for you. Hopefully it was mutual. Excellent poem Take care.
I`m so sorry for your lost....its hard when the love is dead and gone.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The rhythm of this is the perfect carrier for the countdown towards finale. Well-penned David. t x