quarta-feira, 19 de fevereiro de 2014

Mountains of pleasure
and a cloud that shadows his house.
Falling it
the yellow sun
and the eyes cry
like tomorrow.
Please to release me
from this infinite feeling.
Born to fall
but never go down,
for it is impossible to die.
Sooner or later
you have to set on fire
your ground
to force you to
acknowledge flying.

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