At the bottom of what used to fight breast
guilty thoughts?
The road I know,
return and habits bastard. If
ripercorressi steps
written in stone,
slip on salt.
I caught on other faults
rather chew
scorched earth.
If you do not have the courage to face the sun
die in the shadows.
If you do not know what love
die alone.
E step.
I sleep on clouds of smoke
waiting for the return,
wave on the coastline of white foam.
And rest.
As would be nice if once
coincided with the desire for happiness.
But dreams are nourished by hope,
quench their thirst with dew from the crystals of dawn.
It shuns the word air.
And the sound fades.
What remains then?
A ticket, my guitar and singing
a requiem.
expectancy lies in the cemetery of my stasis.
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