In the pocket with your friends, those who refuse to believe, think and fall.
Thinking of you and the songs that emerge from the storm, to be found in small puddles that appear on the translucent glow that shines on the floor in the light of the candle to accompany you to hear the songs of rain.
-You-Italy today, and tomorrow the rain intensifies and the songs are squeezed into a rattle unimaginable. Sin, on the birth of space, the things that inhabit the silence, the day I did all those words, those puddles which emerge the candlelight songs that accompany the days of storm and rain. The day broke, which was inserted fear. When you least expect it was.
And that's what we think and dream of those nights, it was the same that we had refused to take part, was the dream, was reality and what we had inside of each breath. The last of the songs sounded.
-and reach the other side and crossed the line-
and light the candle that is reflected in the puddles when you came to hear the songs of rain and storm ... went out.
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