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terça-feira, 22 de dezembro de 2009

Oblivion

Everyday i write something
to reach the oblivion that never comes
I guess the machines of fog are broken for a wille now
cuz i hear somebody saying behind me
and every detail get bigger and clear
the drunk man is smiling now
but he can't lie
and the silence devours the fog
once more

arguing for a second that look

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