Stealer, you do not stand next . already too many Aprils desbocao for your dawn. Best forget me.
I'll stay here to build my suffering sun on the clothesline desolation
then begin to sew on paper Tequiero and want to sweep with the bristles of a brush ..
And as he finished mending the wounds of the bad sleeping nights I came
and l and the mattress was filled with flowers for the two .
Boneless, colors, which are watered when she cries and when not, the sulfated with our sweat.
And he confessed: "When you boot" that on hand lines read it
it's over which the sun burn.
scared But
- "rumbles your chest as you!"
- "tranqui only my battered heart that rears up when he hears your voice . "
What the hell happened to him out no longer flying?
Maybe you wet the feathers the dew of the moon?
I went crazy on Sonia dewdrops when it starts to get light and still has not slept
And I fell in love, though a winged fairy and I was still not import anything , we were part of the mattress.
Until vowed, "we'll want more than anyone pa not run or the air between you and me."
I felt like I was missing the heat.
I made a deal to mattress lined with foam the heart, which was stone last night and at dawn was wicker; that bends before the break ...
dawned, I saw her leave with a smile, with nothing the door of the balcony, hair flying
telling me goodbye , because decided it was up to the teats of poets to fly and tumble,
Troubadour container.
-Marea, Corazón wicker-
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