There’s an inner scream in me
Ripping in pieces my little heart
Suffering knowing I see
Someone away tearing apart
And I know we love each other
But we’re too broken to love
We don’t sort out out minds rather
Enjoy the fit of our bodies like a glove
So I walk in this desert
Refusing all the good things in life
Because breathing without you I reassert
It has to end with a knife
Dornelas, Big Chair
António Botelho
A arte é um mundo à parte
lost between the purpose
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