Eres mi visita número

sábado, 5 de febrero de 2011

And pray they don't grow up to be me...

How cruel is the golden rule?
When the lives we lived are only golden-plated
And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me
And though I carry karats for everyone to see

And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies
And all the lovers with no time for me
And all of the mothers raised their babies
To stay away from me

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