| The taverns outside the city are still open as in the past,
|
| but the people who went there to drink outside or inside? |
| all dead:
|
| someone? |
| gone for age ?, someone why? |
| already |
| doctor
|
| and pursues a maturity, yes? |
| married, makes a career and? |
| a bit of a death
|
| worse…
|
| Fall like leaves or drunks on the streets they choose,
|
| of the ancient rages only a phrase or some gesture remains,
|
| I don't know if they excuse the past for youth or for mistake,
|
| I don't know if I'm still awake in them, if they meet me by force, curiosity?
|
| or fear ...
|
| Now I get up late every day, I always try to make the morning,
|
| the cards then the coffee? |
| of the station to neutralize the wine,
|
| but I have no excuses to bring, I do not say more? |
| to be a poet,
|
| I have no utopias to realize: stay in bed the next day? |
| perhaps my only one
|
| a half…
|
| The magical dawn in the hills always rises slowly as in the past,
|
| but I don't try anymore? |
| when I look at it what I felt before.
|
| Thieves and future prophets have taken a lot from me,
|
| the day? |
| always a little more? |
| dark, will it be? |
| maybe why? |
| history, sar?
|
| maybe why? |
| I'm getting old ...
|
| But the streets are full of a rage that screams more every day? |
| loud,
|
| the flowers have fallen and left only symbols of death.
|
| Tell me if they are to be stoned if I hide more and more?
|
| but everyone has their stone ready and the first one, don't deny it, you would throw it at me ...
|
| They are more? |
| famous that in that time when you knew me,
|
| no more? |
| friends, I have an audience that listens to the songs you believed in
|
| and maybe they laugh at me, but deep down I have a clear conscience,
|
| do not laugh if I say this, those who have hatred in their hearts and fear in their minds laugh ...
|
| But you don't have to believe this changed my life,
|
| ? |
| a little thing yesterday than tomorrow? |
| already |
| over.
|
| I'm always here to live on me, I have enough from my days,
|
| I have from the glory what I can, that is? |
| something that will go? |
| soon, almost like pocket money ...
|
| You wouldn't believe I have almost closed all the doors to the adventure,
|
| not why? |
| put? |
| the head in order, but out of boredom or fear.
|
| I don't spend desperate nights over what I've done or what I've had:
|
| the things gone are gone and I have the only remorse of the opportunities that I have lost.
|
| The taverns outside the city are still open as in the past,
|
| but the people who went there to drink outside or inside? |
| all dead:
|
| someone? |
| gone to be formed, who to follow reason,
|
| who why? |
| tired of playing, drinking wine, getting fucked up and? |
| a bit of a death
|
| worse… |