A Filosofia por um Intrometido

The glasses and plates are broken
Over here, in this old wood floor
The noise has been piercing
My whole ear canal
For some hours
The blood in my hands
Is still wet
My heart continues dry
My body is being an anarchy
Each one wants to go to a different way
But my brain is stopped
The voices make a mess in me
And the dishes are dirtying the floor
I saw flowers, but I could not give them to you
I've never been able to do nothing for you
My hands are wrapped in my memory
And my memory are broken.


Uma pequena brincadeira em Inglês.