Birds fly in the sky of London. I hear people walking and dogs barking. The wind blows and hits my flaps. I'm alone, with a coffee in my hand and a cigarette in my mouth. These are my days.
The cigarette
Birds fly in the sky of London. I hear people walking and dogs barking. The wind blows and hits my flaps. I'm alone, with a coffee in my hand and a cigarette in my mouth. These are my days.
