Bjork Gudmundsdottir
By Halocination
I see her smiling on a rocky wastelandNo trees, no grass, no water or sand,Her right hand covers her smileHer face flushed from being in the cold a whileRugged boots wrinkled pants, shreds of sweaterHair blown into flowing with the stormy weather,The sky goes from white, to grey, to blackAnd there she sits bracing for, and ready to attackIf not for greying green eyesShe blends into the backdrop as if disguised If not for icy blue cheeks,I'd believed she had not waited a few minutes, but weeksOh beautiful muse how your voice lifts my soulLike the sound of an angel singing a love untold.You give hope to insignificant, yet innumerable faces.Your music takes all your listeners to the ends of untravelled places.Copyright 2001 AllisterAka Bjork, the Icelandic Princess... Written May 2nd, 2001 © on Sep 20 2001 02:50 AM PST 0 • 16
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"I see her smiling on a rocky wastelandNo trees, no grass, no water or sand,Her right hand covers her smileHer face flushed from being in the cold a whileRugged boots wrinkled pants, shreds of sweaterHair blown into flowing with the stormy weather,The sky goes from white, to grey, to blackAnd there she sits bracing for, and ready to attackIf not for greying green eyesShe blends into the backdrop as if disguised If not for icy blue cheeks,I'd believed she had not waited a few minutes, but weeksOh beautiful muse how your voice lifts my soulLike the sound of an angel singing a love untold.You give hope to insignificant, yet innumerable faces.Your music takes all your listeners to the ends of untravelled places.Copyright 2001 AllisterAka Bjork, the Icelandic Princess......"