Pain, but no sword in my back
No thorns of roses in my hand
On my shoulders a big sack
A sack full of shells and sand
I can’t put it down anywhere
This bag full of sweet memory
Try hard to treasure it and care
But it fills me with ache and ire
Sweet old times near the beach
The old shells, they break
Wet feet dry and they teach
That old times can now be fake!
No thorns of roses in my hand
On my shoulders a big sack
A sack full of shells and sand
I can’t put it down anywhere
This bag full of sweet memory
Try hard to treasure it and care
But it fills me with ache and ire
Sweet old times near the beach
The old shells, they break
Wet feet dry and they teach
That old times can now be fake!
3 comments:
Good one...
Which part of your flashback do you feel tired of??
Flashbacks always makes me weary!
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