Sometimes, in my hands, I was dying.
in my trap warming trap
I loved her, but she did not believe in it,
and many times I saw her crying.
She was always thinking
in poems, her soul burned,
drinking his glass of whiskey
after the sunrise, there was no trace of it ...
Sometimes for the lips and I was wondering
did anyone kiss the other way?
in which I was struck by my arrows
crossing insanely all boundaries ...
Goodbye and Kisses ...