The Windmill Grave

Nicolas Aubé

Gone, gone crazy
A vivid picture, a cold breeze

The flags are, stubble upon the grass
The windmill grave, it never falls
Seeing true beauty as a whole

I’m gone crazy
I’m gone crazy
I’m gone...oh no

The sun faces the clouds again
We are at the end of the flame
A shred of light burns my skin away
Fall into a whirlwind of dreams

I’m gone

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