3.12.2015 | 18:09
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The storm rolls be over the headsOf two strangers in a field.The tall grasses have turned white,As an electric fire engulfs the two.Though the grass is white, the sky is blackAnd the air turns a strange grey.The winds begin to howl,The skies begin to cry,Pouring out tears for hours.As the two souls look onA pressure is built up inside.With tempers flaring up andAn appetite building,A storm occurs on the ground.Passion to releaseMoans and thunderSynchronicity and artCompassionate pleasure.Release
