Motorpsycho. Other. Tuesday Morning. Zeneszám

The swans are arriving
the moon is on the rise
warm winds are blowing
the bite from winters white lies
the nights smell of blossoms
making me forget the decay
I swear almost choked me
this tuesday in May

show me your nightmares
I'll give your dreams
A«nothingA» is always
a lot more than it seems........