The kiss I woke up in
Is now my mind crying
My bed gets colder and colder
Even with the haze of summer
The late night talk sipping gin
Is now asking forgivness for my sins
The fights about our debts
Wouldn't be solved by my bets
What I have left is dirty cash
What I have left is white roses and ash
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem