lunes, 23 de febrero de 2009


She
may be the face I can´t forget
a trace of pleasure I regret
may be my treasure or the price I have to pay
she may be the song that Solomon sings
may be the chill that autumn brings
my be a hounded tearful things
within the measure of the day.

She
may be the beauty or the beast
may be the famine or the feast
may turn each day into heave or a hell
she may be the mirror of my dream
a smile reflected in a stream
she may not be what she may seem
inside as shell

she who always seems so happy ´n proud
who´s eyes can be so private and so proud
no one´s allowed to see them when they cry
she may be the love that can and hope to last
may come to me from shadows of the past
that I remember till day I die

She
may be the reason I survive
the why and where for I´m alive
the one I´ll care for through the rough and rainy years
me I´ll take her laughter and her tears
and make them all my souvenirs
for where she goes I got to be
the meaning of my life is

she, she, she

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