A violin breaks open its heart in the light of the dying moon releasing its mournful weeping into the abandoned city night. The voices hum with the drums holding the cold hands of winter dance in dark fearful corners tiptoeing over my sleeping skin.
I M A G I N E / C R E A T E
A violin breaks open its heart in the light of the dying moon releasing its mournful weeping into the abandoned city night. The voices hum with the drums holding the cold hands of winter dance in dark fearful corners tiptoeing over my sleeping skin.