When the morning comes, the moon breathes the last moment, for this most tired man on earth , the sky is a tent of sorrow, my days are cold and politics I dont know about whiteness, everywhere I go, its black, thats why I like black,
first of all, everything is last for me, my horizon is always gray, except for this blackness, another color, for me, its always unbelievable , it jumps out of this cold window of the room , my child, my eyes, I see a happy flight around the dream, dreaming. Until the climax of arrogance, I see the disintegration of affection little by little and it makes me cry, sometimes it becomes crying, the best medicine is where affection dies little by little,
behind this silent and cold window, full of my grief, I am catching fire, I was born alone, now I am going more alone than alone, from this cold window of the room , the child my eyes are around the dream, I see a happy flight, sleep until the climax of the proud climax,
when the morning arrives, the sky is breathing. It kills the last moment for this most tired man on earth...
