Sweet little birds singing:
¡Please, please, please!
Coffee stones on my ribs
blue mountains of pain
falling all the way down
¡Please, please, please!
The hunter avoid us
the fresh trees won´t let us
to stay on the way
far from home
And the sweet little birds
are singing:
¡Please, please, please!
Don´t miss me
don´t let the fall come
and destroy my castle
of words with no meaning
and hope that won´t miss me
at all.
Scott Blake
