BOSPHORUS
BRAZZAVİLLE
She was married to the bosphorus
She threw her ring in then she blew a kiss
To the ottomans and byzantines
Lying beneath the sea
She wore a pink and yellow summer dress
She kept her hair just like a poetess
She traveled all the way to germany
The trains and the cold, dark sea
The amber glow of a morning cigarette
On the istiklal cadessi
The vapor trails and the tiny minerettes
All the domes in silhouette
She wore a pink and yellow summer dress
She kept her hair just like a poetess
She traveled all the way to germany
The trains and the cold, dark sea
The amber glow of a morning cigarette
On the istiklal cadessi
The vapor trails and the tiny minerettes
All the domes in silhouette
She threw her ring in then she blew a kiss
To the ottomans and byzantines
Lying beneath the sea
She wore a pink and yellow summer dress
She kept her hair just like a poetess
She traveled all the way to germany
The trains and the cold, dark sea
The amber glow of a morning cigarette
On the istiklal cadessi
The vapor trails and the tiny minerettes
All the domes in silhouette
She wore a pink and yellow summer dress
She kept her hair just like a poetess
She traveled all the way to germany
The trains and the cold, dark sea
The amber glow of a morning cigarette
On the istiklal cadessi
The vapor trails and the tiny minerettes
All the domes in silhouette
