I have washed my hands, my mind
comes from exploding into fire and brimstone
as an ancient volcano. I have my heart covered
the shadow of love I've created,
the kiss that never delivered,
of the shadow of my shadow
the fire of my mind
volcano in the morning burning in the fiery
loneliness.
My country is freedom and its flag flies
and the brightness of my eyes, my blood
galloping strong and fast through my veins,
by my banks, for my tracks.
I have music going through my ears, like a hundred
birds traveling together in the evening.
And I have all this heat in my chest as clay
waiting for your hands as a craftsman.
I have everything to give just a little tenderness
in return ...
Stock.
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