Hollow angels
New birds do not stop "singing"
dead angels do not have sex, they cry for what was
dry angels, they walk on the ground, they live by drinking alcohol
wet wings They don't fly at all, they make you fly They play at not being able to
Still trees, blind birds
They don't stop crying, tired eyes
They are drying up, they no longer want to look
The river that flows down shows its mud: blood of the city
If they are already leaving, what better than being alone
people are already embarrassed to be told
what to do
If they are already leaving, don't do it no problem
just leave the door open and a little wine to toast
That in the dance of life we u200bu200bonly have to dance.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS