2 Ağustos 2010 Pazartesi
To the Dark Lord Third
Sitting by his castle’s balcony
My Dark Lord thinks of agony
Lightinig his cigar, he dreams of his lady,
The one,who is so -called candy.
They are the miles that take them apart
The folding anger made him depressed
And his sweet lady is in stressed..
She ,the preminet.
Could live the joys of life,together
Was he the one who killed the mirth inside her
For the grace of God,she could relieve..
His tongue was in poison
Like a scorpion..
By closing her eyes,she wished it to stop..
Thanks God ,they are all teardrop..