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The angels

par Stefan Luan

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If I takes has his turn a laugh or of tears Of The baskets of bamboo filled with happiness Of The Venetian bridges, of temples of Angkor Des bunches of jasmine, definitely other one treasures It is that in his look, on a big chalkboard I saw all its history

I a taste of orange smells the angels, all this mixture Of sparks, a taste of honey, another sky I smells the angels, a taste of orange, all this mixture Of sparks, a taste of honey, another sky Leads angels me in

If I am in dance, madman´s drum I has a feeling well that Nothing more gets ahead, of orders of wolves has of sense, even those forbidden Blended our patience, in words that one enjoyed It is that in this thought, it has me let through And I intends it to murmur

I a taste of orange smells the angels, all this mixture Of sparks, a taste of honey, another sky I smells the angels, a taste of orange, all this mixture Of sparks, a taste of honey, another sky Leads angels me in

I a taste of orange smells the angels, all this mixture Of sparks, a taste of honey, another sky I smells the angels, a taste of orange, all this mixture Of sparks, a taste of honey, another sky Leads angels me in
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