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lunes, 6 de abril de 2009

Bed shaped

Many's the time I ran with you down
the rainy roads of our old town
many the lives we lived in each day and buried all together
don't laugh at me, don't look away
you'll follow me back with the sun in your eyes
and on your own
bedshaped and legs of stone
you'll knock on my door
and up we'll go
in white light I don't think so
But what do I know?
What do I know?


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