I prefer the storm and that it was beautiful, it was like a shadow on the board, I saw a shipwreck behind each boat. I preferred the winter, the colors of the summer, I could never frame them, I was the lonely, the weak, the inconsolable. Yes, but, as the painter said, then cut, before dying, before darkening. My love, the sadness will always last, I might as well dye myself, wear his hat, when you come to strangle me, I don't believe it anymore. My love, the sadness has passed its turn, I loved the dead natures, I loved the dark lights, I can no longer see them in painting, the devil takes them away, they left my walls. All my Saint Sebastian, my sketched sketches, I stored them in the museum, I thought that nothing would ever happen again. Yes, but, as the painter said, then cut, before dying, before darkening. My love, the sadness will always last, I might as well dye myself, wear his hat, when you come to strangle me, I don't believe it anymore. My love, the sadness has passed its turn. Yes, but, as the painter said, then cut, before dying, before darkening. My love, the sadness will always last, I might as well dye myself, wear his hat, when you come to strangle me, I don't believe it anymore. My love, the sadness has passed its turn. My love, the sadness will always last. My love, the sadness has passed its turn. My love, the sadness has passed its turn.