שטויות שרשמתי בפטלייף

Beneath the hallowed trees, above the ground below.

Underneath the mistletoes, no reprieve from all that's known.

Trembles, shivering from a touch of yours.

Touch me gently, time has run it's course.

Silence, hearken to the sound of the breeze.

Topped with heartbeats and the way you breathe.

Up until the drink still flows, forgotten as a memory.

Far fetched notion, only becomes an agony.

Fast approaching, the branch above the mistletoe.

Sounds reverbing, trees buried in the ground below.