martes, 8 de marzo de 2011

Fifth floor

I wanted to be big
But I always disregarded the fact I was a pig

My brother wants Morrison’s face tattooed on his strong right arm
I want your face pierced through mi weak, weak heart

I’m afraid I couldn’t walk alone through this concrete sea,
I’m afraid I couldn’t breathe this putrid fishy smelly water if you walked out of my soul

You are my soul
The tiny little gentle part that can still be referred to as soul
My soul is as dark as my sore thoughts
You are the piece that is not sore

As he said: C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, now touch me baby
My writing would be my death; your touching will be my death as well
Touch me, touch me now for I want to die with you in that fifth floor

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