sexta-feira, 5 de fevereiro de 2010

I cannot say it

But my heart does not know what happened.
So he sends me these beautiful thoughts,
he tells me to remember you at all times,
he tells me to think of you at the beach,
at the mardi gras, during the solitude of the nights.
And it is not my fault, because he does not know what happened.
I try to tell him, but he does not listen.
Perhaps you should tell him. I can not.

você, um beco

Querosene explosão  admite a melhora admite a melhora da casa com as plantas uma samambaia para cada lado tirar dois livros da estante uma b...