quarta-feira, 28 de julho de 2010

You be the anchor that keeps my feet on the past.

And I was nearly scared to death
Why you left in paragraphs?
All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes
Just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make-believe?
With a tear in His voice, He said, "Son, that's the question."
Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?

Por que eu?

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