North Atlantic Oscillation
Ceiling Poem
You're not flying in my skies againNot after that landingOr that skewed approachYou're not getting off the ground this yearLimitless corrosionQuestionable skillsYou woke up in a cotton-white cubeClutching hand-forged papersMuttering callsignsYou were found in numerous back streetsHolding an umbrella like a satellite dish
From Letras Mania