terça-feira, 16 de dezembro de 2014

Everyday there's faces
crossing down the road.
It seems I cannot find
my way back home.

walking through the desert,
learning who I am.
It seems I don't know,
when have I sined?

I see a house and a door,
a building with no ground floor,
a good place
to hang my skin.

If there's something that I've learn,
My mind will never be,
alone in the same room as me.

What am I doing?
what will I be?
I'm sorry I didn't mean
to be,

the face behind a mask,
watching the world through a glass,
there's is no garden
and no grass.

Where is the road?
Where is the sun?
I found my way
a desert with no sand.