Оригинален текст
Fingerprints on my eyes like ten tiny maps to heaven.
Or ten rogue angels torching the house of god.
I fell something pressing against my kidneys.
Maybe a pair of wings.
Maybe the ghost of a bullet.
Fingerprints on my eyes like ten tiny maps to heaven.
Or ten rogue angels torching the house of god.
I fell something pressing against my kidneys.
Maybe a pair of wings.
Maybe the ghost of a bullet.