called
How sad it is to masturbate,
always thinking of you
Being able to go to your house
and walk there together
Running the curtains,
moving the carpets
With that angel face
you put on for me
How
sad are the flowers
of your beautiful garden
If no one waters them,
they forget about me
The river does not flow,
nor do your planets rotate
And all those things you keep for me
How sad it is to be on earth with these broken
wings Being able to go to the moon and walk there
Touching the stars,
picking the most beautiful ones
And all those things that I keep for you
The courtyard of my house is particular
When it rains, it gets wet like the others
And it has a barrack
with lights on
That shine during the day when you are not there
