Like a woman who never gave birth,
or a sky with out rain.
theres a crimnal on this road, and it
steels your beatifull pain.
LIKE a child with out toys, or a saint
with out faith, theres a crimnal on this
road, and it steels your beatifull pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
THE SINS OF OUR WAYS...GREAT PIECE, DAVID...QUITE DEEP, INDEED FJR