Typical July
I miss that little World, where in the lonely nights I step, and there is a day and a blue summer play with field before harvest ... And I'm sorry ... I find myself, on the forehead with a Santa tied cloth, in words that I now understand - coming from field before harvest ... And I'm still there ... and I still feel - in the hairy flower of my grandmother. And tender money her kiss hot, field farming before harvesting ... I miss that little World, where I secretly get in the night - I'm there in the hottest Summer, in my heart ... before that harvest ...
@jezzica
It's burning hot July
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