I’ve been traveling around
Different pieces of land
And I feel myself more underground
Struggling to walk on quicksand
And I ask myself in the dark
When I’m laying down on white
Why do I always want to park
The furthest way of the light
I run away from my house
There I know I’m not alone
My dark thoughts grow and rouse
My inner self rots till the bone
So every day there’s a cataclysm
Making me run away like a rabbit
Scared of all the cynicism
Lived by everyone bit by bit
Tiny table, Dornelas
António Botelho
Runningawayfromdarkness
Mais textos
Rss do autor
Estatísticas
Enviar
Imprimir
Criar um pdf
