Cerrien

Cloud Cloud Cloud It’s not a fair It’s not a festival It’s something else It’s my own dreamland It’s walking through the veil of a memory, where no one feels the green streams but I It’s the purity that my soul wants me above the flesh of trees The outer circle of dew and root And from primal to the modern winds that pulsate through her tresses We are perfect I will hold you in the tallest of my trees The greatest circle of veins Above and through And so far I am Damian The D in my name alikе the green streams I remеmber the fragrance , the mirror I feel the cerrien days