• xixlinn 71w


    We don't walk these roads
    We don't sing choruses
    We don't laugh when it's loud
    We don't cry when it's quiet
    We don't run when the winds blow
    We don't stop when the sun hangs low
    Soft sands are our couches
    Fragile ice-peaks our eat outs
    The trees posses our souls
    And the forest becomes our home
    We are children of the fated
    Born out of the last wishes
    Of the ones who never never saw tomorrow.