Sep 29, 2010

DROPPING OUT THE CITIES OF NO MORE

Just give me another kick
unlike the one i used to wear as a cloth
give me a flag and a soul
a name with no shame and no ancestors
give me a history with no mystery
give me weeks open for everybody to visit
not only on Sundays between
3-4 in the evening.

It feels so cold inside the deserts of my soul.
Spare me a song and a filter for the mouth
a pare of boots, laced and bruised
like the bodies of the witches
anxiously hunting action.
I got to meet every boy that
fell at your feet.

Keep me clean in all my stains
and let me loose.
Always keep for me an excuse
and a wish for i'll live forever
through the winters
and keep in mind to feel.
I only steal to stay real.

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