Oh, our sweet crime…
If our house were
The heaven of love,
The eternity itself,
The office of art…
We would make some
Music, love, poetry…
When I can see you writing,
It’s a vitamin for me.
It feeds me with immunity
Agains black and white reality.
I could write you a song but
don’t get me wrong,
Yes I love some people around me,
But who else would be able to
Inspire me the way you do?
Who else would give that taste of
Being free…
It’s just that my heart can’t handle,
Three months to end the year,
I am almost thirty years old…
I wasn’t even searching for
The heaven of love anymore,
But just a silly little piece of gold…
Till that our own special way to adore
IS SOLD OUT.