There is no escaping the sounding of the bell
There is no escaping your own private hell
There is no escaping those green eyes
There is no escaping the cold bitter lies
How can you escape when the memories are in your head
There is no escaping until you are breathless and dead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice......it kinda stroke me as funny dont know why, dont be mad at me ok.