terça-feira, 10 de março de 2009

On the floor

slip the house room
feel the cold to be barefoot in my floor
I do not lose sight of, place spies
guess my past by your side in the door

make a melody and I plug it
Feel my curves parallel
they seem like the curves of your guitar
I put in its final soundtrack on my spell

the last scene is the kiss eater
I do not let fear the interval faker
I am an eager and real trailler

we are two, more novel than film
feel more reasons than
more tracks than neighboring walls
my sky not so high because it falls

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