If until yesterday, you didn't believe in me,
Better not tell me.
What you think about others is what you are afraid of being...
I look in depth, The plot unravels,
Who am I to disbelieve?
I don't care about the truth..
Who steps on the dry leaves?
The litter will envelop me
And in the cradle of oblivion, I will be memory...
And in the curve of boredom I will be prehistory...
Promises are meant to be broken and forgettable,
Secrets are meant to be told...

INVIA LE CORREZIONI