You asked me something I could trust to blame.
I woke up early because I feel you just outside these walls.
drag appointments and deadlines on the asphalt gray goodbye.
And dissolving in coffee universal belief, micro magic between the general conventions.
held without passion up close in my tight skirt.
What made the loneliness a dirty plate?
What was celebrated when the bride clutched between his teeth whiter than white apparel dress?
lyrics are the joy and blessings, the complaint.
"The cultivation of grapes in Italy dates back to the Iron Age.
The growth of the plant takes up permanent support: it is guardians of "live" (elm, mulberry, ash) or, increasingly, on supports, "dead" (reeds, wooden poles, concrete poles, wire). "
Paint in black to the right of the wall, your home in Geneva, which is like the bare shoulder of the fairy who does not believe.
But I've seen for forty nights glacial glass blowing in your eyes closed.
Thought it was a breeze or charm or it was a mirror.
Instead it's just empty.
Any substance having my breath on that glass, you can moderate the rush of the princess, not the tenant.
The child, the dog, read books to school the next year with the ardor of the newsboy.
All flies. My hair, your hat, the lessons of drunken dancers, the air on the Green River of waiting, the knees of the players six years and two gates, the skirts of their mothers who sweat missions.
flies All except you, that takes away as the the engine accelerates and hatred.
Except you, who dresses of genius and cowardly triumph ground level.
are the Amazon that is civilized in order to be worthy of your gala, ended up in hospital.
All flies, except for you, but scythes away the highest desires and our love that you feel you want to exalt and never in the flesh.
magnificent, proud, proud.
musician that I am the silence.
You amplify the horror.
