Painting Frederick Biotteau, click to visit his gallery
Passers of a life insane without
only led supporters in a deadlock cleared.
mulling their worries incessantly throbbing
They burrow and entwined with the past. Their youth
blunt leaves them in the trap
Anxieties such salty dirty innocence,
So far from the surface they drown in the mass swarming
Without knowing this intense pain.
stifling silence being qu'esseulés,
Their hearts were so knocked unconscious.
Without love to sow And they are disoriented
assume in the hope that the evanescence.
Tonight, unwittingly, follows the elusive
Their breathless sighs become embedded without knowing what sounds they
hello, under these skies chérissables,
In the last of this soul sister unattached.
Lightning hitting them with a sudden feeling The
pushing to unite to heal their wounds,
In the vicious circles of both urban
insinuates an exit, a fresh break.
Their fate is fickle and dependent sense,
Assassine wandering in raising them.
Together they advance to their second chance,
torturing their tears in this thanksgiving.
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