- You ask me to paint a man with cheek pink as cherry blossom, but how can I give him color when he is not real? I could paint him till he ran with his own blood, but he wouldn’t be real. In the end he is just paint on my canvas, he is not real.
- by Wolf of the Sacred Wind |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 09/09/2009 |
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- Title: The man on my canvous
- Artist: Wolf of the Sacred Wind
- Description: The world from the eyes of a man who has seen it crumble to dust, but he only paints in black, white, and red...
- Date: 09/09/2009
- Tags: canvous
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