I was the pen of that picture, my name, who does not know the name
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Is this the first stanza of a poem, is it a dream or a treat for me?
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Is there a tomorrow in the lining of your mind, is a spring expected?
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Is the original very different from the one described? |
tell the original
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Look, I got it, stop explaining, life is a pictured blank canvas
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You are the beyond of your work on the wall
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It's a picture, my pens were my feelings, draw a bird
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White winged rainbows are my address
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Even if you make a stone with your five coins, my life is on my head
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Understand, I was the king of my mind, bedridden desires on my lips
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Let spring wait for me at my stops
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No, if it's not real, don't stop, let the desires say goodbye
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Let your mind play the color reel, does it resemble the heart?
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If he behaves in a nice way, will he cheat?
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An unnecessary cry in my ears
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These voices are an old acquaintance, I realized that it's deception
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It's been monthly in my diary, understand
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Life tastes like a pinch of jam on my lips
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Let me dream of longing, there is a journey
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A very close goodbye is expected on the horizon
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It's been monthly in my diary, understand
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If my rap is a word on my lips, if it delivers it to mind
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My feelings about life, if you want
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I tell a person who was not born inside of me
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Hook and the wind blew at the bottom of these rhymes
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This heart of a soldier wants repair in the religion of the tongue
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In the donkey's lair, my madness rears up, my house is fed with green
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That satisfaction (My gestures in shaped songs!)
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sunk life, in every tongue, in every tongue, the kolpa was every floor
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My eyes were squinted, wander in front of the center
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My raps were the reason for being indifferent
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She had a few influences in her religion (Write my words now girl!)
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It is guilty, but it is not valid, is it corrupt?
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dug in man's finite notebook
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The cycle was base, your culture went out in my provinces
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Smell it at your door, I say all that qualification
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Don't have love in you (It's true my reasons)
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Look old man, this doubt is known in the insults
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I played with the gene of longing one hundred percent
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In floods of thought that dominate individual drill
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We either died at the bottom of my empty purse (Partly with my logic!)
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It's been monthly in my diary, understand
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Life tastes like a pinch of jam on my lips
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Let me dream of longing, there is a journey
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A very close goodbye is expected on the horizon
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It's been monthly in my diary, understand
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If my rap is a word on my lips, if it delivers it to mind
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My feelings about life, if you want
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I tell a person who was not born inside of me |