Tom Horseman
Mitglied
Sometimes, at night, I start to cry.
I feel cold.
Except from this sudden, warm touch on my shoulders.
As if all the ghosts of my past try to comfort me.
And show me with this little act that everything’s going to be okay.
When I’m outside, I’m then looking to the moon, thankfully,
to this small and guiding light
and smile.
I feel cold.
Except from this sudden, warm touch on my shoulders.
As if all the ghosts of my past try to comfort me.
And show me with this little act that everything’s going to be okay.
When I’m outside, I’m then looking to the moon, thankfully,
to this small and guiding light
and smile.