sexta-feira, 22 de janeiro de 2010

Burning Jazz

So I can try to behave, go on by the rules..
So I can be one more that swallows whatever.

So I can remember to love...

So I can be love, without the sweet touch of warm skin:
Of painfully planned touches that take me in,
that make me a believer, sufferer..

So I am, lost in all the time burned between us..
Now I am, in you, memory of perfume and great wine..
I am a world, lost, never again found..

I am jazz that burns paper and nothing more..

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