Oh boy, we meet every nigth
showing me draws for poems
cuddling ex-lovers and rare lands,
allways in a hurry, escaping
from the sadness of a past life:
both afraid of dying again
in each other arms.
Oh boy, you will know me best
by the sunset of life:
sleeping less Darma troubles
I'll kiss a very old traveller,
your mouth speaking 100 women
and every writen word to come.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário