Poland
Where now baby, in your stunt plane up in our sky. We acrobat into the incredible eventual abyss, upside down with our engine idling, I see your home country above us. Poland. How can it be so beautiful? Like your string wire canvas airplane, it belonged to your father. I bet he’d hate my tattoos...
Speed falling off, your plane drags downwards to an autumn Polish landscape. Arcing m...

Read and leave comments (0)