Getting there, mystery of time that passes with body's weight.
No more the anguish of tomorrow's knowing. Can't say what this day will bring, how to project tomorrow's spring? Got to get there, with gentle eyes and heavy heart. Concrete novel of my past forgotten by some new, rare experience that seems that I have to experience. Living is time to get by with smiley faces and unforgettable moments that I have to forget for new to come. Walking the streets of Lisbon - specially at night - for example, is for me one of the most high moments that I can imagine. Loving people with sad faces, even cold faces, look away. I smile. Experiencing life as it was about to end. Time travels and I stay. No money nor home to get away. To find some other eyes that shine like mine. We all have it, it's just that we're afraid. So open to all that it hurts. Getting there, yes, that's it, have to get there.