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quarta-feira, 27 de abril de 2011

The future of me.

No sanity, no trust, no worries,
No feelings, no love, there's nothing.
She wants to be, she can't be,
She wants to feel, but it's unnecessary;
I
t's not covenient, little does she know.
Poor her, not so poor ...
What is she?
Oh Lord, what is it?
She's like you.
It's like you ... well,
a little smarter.

She uses her ''mind'' and you your dumb heart.
She's scheduled.
She doesn't know what pain means, my friend.
She's mine. She's me. In my dream.

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